


Growing Pains

by Haunted_Frost



Series: Bat Family Awkward Situations [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Marriage, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Racism, Social Media, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-06-21 02:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15547242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_Frost/pseuds/Haunted_Frost
Summary: Time travel can cause even minor shifts, but maybe this was how things were supposed to happen. Bruce gets married, his kids grow up, and life moves on.or: superheroes deserve a bit of happiness and domesticity. Give them a minute to realize it, and we'll have happily ever after in no time.





	1. Wedding Bells (Or Chaotic Good Forces in the Name of Love)

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS is the alternate Batman Beyond fic - meaning from the BatCat wedding onward we'll get to have some milestones for different characters (I'm not looking forward into figuring out how to age them all appropriately). We'll still have changing POVs but I can almost guarantee ahead of time that we'll get a lot of Damian, Mari, and Terry by the end of this. I'll also probably have super sporadic updates as this will be posted only a few weeks before my senior year in college/uni/whatever you call it where you live begins (yikes!). (Can I also say that while this wedding scene probably isn't perfect it also helped me recover from my salt levels with the comics)

* * *

**Bruce**

Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne couldn’t get married.  At least, not without a major public affair, even a whirlwind one. 

That meant parties she would have made major heists at in the past.  If there were any chance they could live their lives, it would have to be both production and private—a quiet wedding with the people that cared, and a reception for those that thought they did. 

The reception would have to be a gala, and they’d spin it that it would be just like when they met. 

* * *

 

That part had almost been fun—an act, like so many others, but one where the people he cared about were in on the joke.  The extra dates—often with Lois and Clark or alone, but visible—were no hardship. 

He was starting to think the actual wedding might be, though, as the date came closer. 

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” asked Tim dryly while they prepared for a meeting to set up the reception. 

“Of course not,” Bruce replied, biting his tongue rather than continuing with _just a minor panic attack, son, don’t worry._

He was getting married.  Planning a wedding.  When he’d proposed, it had been almost easy, but now?  He knew that Selina didn’t need it all to be perfect, but he was going to do his best for her.  After how much they’d suffered and broken and grown back together, she deserved that from him. 

“So we’ll have it in the ballroom.  Lots of art deco glam,” Stephanie explained, pulling out the sketches she and Damian had put together, “Very film noir.  See, I don’t want to do the silver and gold thing though, so I was thinking black, gold, and green, like this.”  Between his children (read: not Dick because he had no sense of fashion), they hadn’t really needed to hire a real wedding planner.  Tim did all the actual buying, and the girls, Jason, and Damian were all on board the design and scheduling.  Selina and he barely had to do any work beyond regular decision making. 

“Roses or lilies?”

“Lilies,” Selina insisted. 

“Band or DJ?”

“Band,” Bruce called over his shoulder.

“Buffet or regular caterer?”

“Buffet,” scoffed Jason, “So you can get whatever the hell you want to eat.  I haven’t had an assigned meal since school lunches, Jesus.”

“Who asked you?” sneered Damian.  It ended in a small scuffle, two black eyes, and a broken chair over Jason’s back. 

* * *

 

**Damian**

She’d never be his mother.  He didn’t want that, really—“Mother” had connotations of murmurs in Arabic, a gleaming blade, dry-gritty-heat.  Every part of him that wasn’t Gotham.  But Miss Kyle—she was Gotham as much as Father was, or Todd or Drake or Brown. 

Kyle wormed her way into his life all too quickly for his liking.  Calling her Mother would be bitter in his mouth.  He wouldn’t—couldn’t—embrace that. 

(no matter how easily it nearly came off his tongue)

Her confession that night made it worse.  Because she _understood_. 

Even being the newest to the family did not change the fact that things were most definitely changing—everyone knew that the Bat worked alone.  Until he didn’t. 

He never really did, now that Damian was thinking about it. 

No, Damian stared up at the old painting of Martha and Thomas Wayne with a younger Bruce in front of them and thought about how _not_ alone his father was—maybe he distanced himself, but no one had really abandoned him.  Alfred.  Dick. Jason—all of them couldn’t help but just be _loyal._  

And if Damian was working on a family portrait, one with _all_ of them to reflect that, well, no one had to know until it was finished.

He was left one of her cats, a still unnamed kitten—a little black thing with white paws, tail, chest, and muzzle.  Jason made the comment upon seeing it that it was like it wore a suit.  Damian knew the perfect name for the resilient cat. 

“What do you think, Alfred?” Damian murmured, petting it. “Your mother took adequate care of you, I suppose, for you to survive this long.  Though I wonder if you would consider Ms. Kyle your mother, too.” The tiny thing made a little rumbling sound—not quite a mew or purr. 

Alfred was warm under Damian’s hand while they sat.  It was hard to be alone in the manor, what with all the random family members and friends. 

“But Kyle won’t be Kyle for much longer, and you’ll be joining us.  Do you think that’ll work out?  Coming from somewhere else into this insanity?”

“Mrrr.”

“Right.”

* * *

 

**Tim**

He wasn’t sure how to feel about Bruce being married. 

Timothy Drake-Kyle-Wayne definitely felt like a mouthful, but at least each last name was only one syllable.  And Selina took Bruce’s name, so it was still his usual name in real life.  It was just another idea that flitted through his mind.  (He certainly couldn’t imagine Grayson-Kyle-Wayne or al Ghul-Wayne-Kyle or whatever they’d do given the opportunity.)

At the rehearsal dinner, he recalled, Kate had brought a date from National City.  She and Alex wore matching dresses and everything, and Kate had goaded him more than once into trying a shot of what she was having.  He declined every time, sighing.

“I’m underage.”

“Stop it, Kate,” Alex finally chided.  “He’s not going to say yes.”

“I know.  He’s the most stubborn one of the family.  I just like pushing buttons.” 

“Really?  Most stubborn?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.  “How do you figure?”

“Have you _met_ Bruce?  Everyone on the invite list could get him to cave to most things.  Sure, he has principles that he has an ironclad grip on, but in most cases?  He gives no fucks.  Tim here is a micromanager incarnate.”  Tim thought about it for a moment before shrugging and chugging down his entire glass of coke. 

* * *

Jason seemed completely cool with the whole affair, and Dick was too happy for Bruce to notice any awkwardness.  Damian had been sour about it for a while. 

The salacious playboy image had always been another mask, but apparently even the public was allowed this change.  Tim was on the story with Eliza immediately.  The story was mostly the truth—that they’d been chasing one another down for years, that they’d been together off and on.  That they’d finally stopped dancing around the truth and decided to commit.  That article about the engagement—it had turned out well in the end, yes, but damn if it didn’t feel like things were changing. 

Maybe it was all the talk show hosts and gossip rags saying that Bruce was finally growing up, but Tim was beginning to feel like it was the end of an era.  No more weird-billionaire-with-a-ton-of-weird-kids—just.  Family?  It was Dick’s go-to word for them.  Damn if it didn’t still make him feel weird. 

Selina had almost called it off, too.  She loved Bruce, and she knew that he wouldn’t be himself without Batman.  The Joker had been right, in a sense—that a happy Bruce Wayne would mean the end of the Bat. 

At least, the end of the Bat that insisted he be alone when the worst came to pass. 

* * *

 

**Dick**

The girls were dressing up overnight, and the guys had volunteered to set up the rooftop.  Tiger lilies were everywhere for the sake of matching the sunrise.  The small wedding party and the officiant were all gathered in the correct spots.  Bruce looked—

Dick thought about it.  He’d known Bruce’s suits, been underfoot at thousands of parties with Brucie Wayne.  But this wasn’t Brucie.  This wasn’t the Bat.  It was just . . . Bruce. 

Selina had asked Alfred to walk her down the aisle, or rather, up the stairs and across the roof that was ready for them.  Jason was the only one with any credentials to marry people (no one really knew how or why he’d gotten _that_ of all things done while out with the Outlaws), Damian was the only one of an appropriate age to be ring bearer, and he, Tim, and Duke all were groomsmen. 

Babs, Steph, Cass, and Harper were bridesmaids.  It was all a gorgeous ceremony set up.  The sky was lightening. 

Selina was stunning. 

She’d never really pretended to be anyone but herself, for all she was Catwoman by night and Selina Kyle by day.  Her tiara reflected that for sure (her something old, a gag gift from Ivy refurbished for the occasion).  Dick was the one who insisted on them having at least a small ceremony, not just a shotgun wedding in Vegas.  They’d both considered it aloud after the Joker had attempted to ruin everything. 

Dick had sworn he’d kill the Joker again if they called it off—they deserved happiness while they saved Gotham and the world again and again. 

Her shoes were Tim’s gift—well, Tim, financially, and the Batgirls actually to chose the pair (something new—delicate, short heels with crystals curling across the tops of her feet).  Dick had the idea for the source of the black lace on her train and some of the material on her bodice.  He was actually proud of it—a few of Bruce’s capes from older suits, cut carefully so no one would notice.  Selina put in the order, but Dick was the one that managed to nab the capes (not really borrowed, as Bruce definitely wasn’t going to see those capes again, but Dick also didn’t want to think about the extra, smaller order she also made in black lace.  Nope.  No father figure in the bedroom doing anything but sleeping with— _next to_ —their wife.)

(And her something blue?  The earrings.  No one knew that when Dick had first been captured by Catwoman during a heist—just a kid barely trained to be Robin—she’d tipped him off to the fact that the costume earrings in the window were actually real diamonds.)

She’d slipped him them months later when he couldn’t find a way to return them to an actual owner—two midnight blue sapphires that dangled and glittered at either side of her face as she approached Bruce in the firey early sun. 

Bruce was Bristol Gotham—clean cut, solid, dark shapes, scarred and dignified.  Selina was chic, sleek black and white tethered together at sweeping angles with the wildness of the Narrows and Crime Alley.  Both beautiful.  Both dangerous.  Halves of a whole. 

Dick was already twitching by the time they began their vows.  His lack of ability to stay still had never changed. 

It was simple and short, but they probably deserved that, too. 

“I swear to you that you are my home.  You are the one I will go to when I need.  You are my equal, my partner, my love, for as long as time will allow us,” Bruce said solemnly, giving her the ring. 

“I will defend your heart, and stand by you, and you are my first and only true family.  You are my equal, my partner, my love, for all the lives we have.”

“You may kiss the bride,” Jason said, an amused glint in his eye.  While Bruce obliged him, Dick couldn’t help but think _finally._

* * *

 

**Harper**

Some superheroes and socialites walk into the open bar . . .

The joke was the fact that it was possible. 

She could not be the only one totally amused by the guest list.  The big Gotham business names were all present, but so were so many members of the Justice League in their civilian identities. The only reporters allowed (much to Vicki Vale’s chagrin) were Clark and Lois. 

Basically all the snobs didn’t know what to do with the plebeians that had seemingly snuck their way into the party. 

* * *

“Ah, Mr. Queen,” grinned one of Selina’s invites—Holly, who could definitely tear Oliver apart.  Harper watched, amused, as he tried so hard not to ogle her with Dinah right next to him. 

“Miss . . . ?”

“Oh, no worries, just a friend of the bride.  I’m thinking of moving to Star City, though, and if all the guys look like you, I certainly won’t complain.”

“Pretty does not negate asshole, unfortunately,” Jason said cheerfully.  He still had a grudge over the former mayor’s treatment of Roy.  Oliver spluttered.  

“Jay—I—”

“I dare you to answer that without digging yourself a hole, Ollie,” Jason gave a shark-toothed grin. 

* * *

If Harper had known it would be like this, she would have grabbed some popcorn and not grumbled so much about coming.  Some old society grannies were gossiping about Selina’s lower class and how it was all very _Pretty Woman._

“Well, I never _,_ ” crowed one with a sneer.  Diana’s eyes brightened not two feet away.  _Hoo boy prepare for the smackdown._

“And what of it?  She’s stunning.  She’s strong.  She’s the one he loves—why should how much money she started with or the part of town she grew up in matter?  Where I come from, royalty, warriors, workers—they are all equals.  I should think at a wedding no one would be outright rude enough to insult a bride?”

Okay, Harper was totally jumping on the I-Love-Wonder-Woman train with Jason. 

* * *

“Is every gala like this?”

“Nah, usually the food isn’t as good and you don’t have anyone fun present to balance out the assholes,” Barbara said.  “Hey, Harper, you got anything for the new bike we were talking about?”  She’d wanted something mobile while she worked on physical therapy.  Between Bruce’s sources and her tenacity, she might have a shot at walking again—or at least standing for brief periods of time.  So she commissioned Harper to deck out a bike for her that would work based on her current limitations, but would gradually be able to be modified back to normal with little effort.  Harper couldn’t wait to see the look on Commissioner Gordon’s face when she drove the finished bike.  It would be epic. 

* * *

“This is why we don’t have League parties anywhere near Gotham,” Bruce grumbled as he watched in fascination as Barry drank most of the other League members (and Dick, and Jason, and a few other excited guests) under the table.  Harper grinned. 

“It’s like you don’t know how to have fun, B.  Hey, the cake!  Better go smash some in Selina’s face now.”  They did, and Harper made sure to spare a slice for Cullen back home.  The lucky one to get Selina’s bouquet was actually Titus, who’d broken into the ballroom. 

The night ended with Tim asleep at a table next to the lucky dog, Damian using his pet as a pillow, Stephanie and Jason doing bad karaoke, and everyone else going home or to bed. 

Best wedding ever. 

* * *

**Tim**

While Bruce and Selina were off on an actual honeymoon, Dick was Batman.  Tim sometimes wanted to strangle him for how much he secretly overworked himself—at least Tim made no mistake of reporting exactly what he did and for how long.  No, Dick was a sneaky bastard, for all his performance.  He was Officer Grayson, Nightwing, and Batman all at once—if that didn’t exhaust him, Tim didn’t know what would.  He’d been out of the country last time Dick had had to do that full time, and he wasn’t going to let the asshole run himself ragged again. 

“Either get someone else to take care of Nightwing patrols or split up Gotham between all of us,” he demanded.  Dick blinked slowly. 

“Uh, thanks for the concern, Tim, but really, I—”

“Nope, not hearing it.  You don’t even let Bruce handle the city alone.  And you’ve got two.  So split the difference.  You’re not going to run yourself ragged while everyone is perfectly capable of helping.”  Dick snorted.

 “Hypocrite.”

“Aren’t we all?”

* * *

 

Nightwing and Hush.  Red Hood and Anarky.  Batgirl and Riddler.  Robin and Ra’s.  Even freaking Harley and the Joker—apparently all sorts of malevolent forces were out for Selina and Bruce.  It had happened, and the two were on honeymoon, and there was this weird lull in crime—not an end, never that, but a quietness. 

It made Steph antsy as hell on patrol with him. 

“They’d face us all down one at a time,” Steph explained, feet hanging off the edge of the apartment fire escape.  “There’s enough of them that it could have been catastrophic.  Not to mention no one’s taken advantage.”

“They know B’s not the only one anymore,” he argued.  “No matter how dark and intimidating he gets—we’re no army, but for this city? We’re as good as.”

“I don’t like the idea of being a soldier.”  Her nose wrinkled in disgust. 

“Don’t you get it?  He didn’t mean it, but that’s what he did, starting with Dick.  We’d all have done it on our own, but he gave us the training.”  She was quiet for a minute. 

“That’s a pretty dark take, Tim.”  

“But not inaccurate.  I like my life as is.  And yeah, maybe it took some tragedies to get us all here, but that’s how we ought to be—I’d be a hell of a megalomaniac if left to my own devices with all the Drake wealth in the world.  It’s what my mom would have wanted—hell, I could give Luthor a run for his money if I wanted to.”

“And that is one reason why we don’t date anymore,” Steph decided, “Speaking of, how’s Kon?”  Tim spluttered. 

“I—you— _no_ , first of all, and _hell no_ , second.”

“What?”  Ugh.  Steph just had to meddle in his relationships. 

“Exes don’t get meddling privileges.”

“But best friends do!” she grinned. 

* * *

 

**Selina**

“I nearly left you at the aisle,” she said.  Bruce blinked. 

“Why?”

A lot of things.  The Joker hadn’t been wrong, that Batman was brought on by Bruce’s misery.  But he was wrong that a happy Bruce would mean the end of Batman.  Bruce had been happy before.  They’d been happy without getting married.  All of this—the misery of Gotham, the gloom of fog that blanketed the city—definitely didn’t lend to the image of a happy, blended family. 

That’s what they were, and screw the Joker for giving her doubts. 

Bruce was no different a man before they’d had the ceremony than after—she just had him as _hers_ now, and she was _his._

“A misplaced sense of selflessness, clearly.  I need to leave the self-sacrificing bull to you.”  He chuckled, pulling her closer to kiss. 

“You can’t leave me; Damian has already claimed partial ownership of your cats.”

“Oh,” she smiled, “Well, _Damian_ has good taste, unlike you.”

“I have taste,” he grumbled without any real heat.  She snorted. 

“Do you know how much Lois and Clark bet on you bringing the suit on our honeymoon?”

“They didn’t.”

“Of course not; Lois is smart and Clark knows you too well.  Barry and Oliver, on the other hand—”

Bruce sighed.  It was his _Robin, stop antagonizing the embarrassing villain that you can clearly tie up but are humoring_ sigh. 

“It’s like they’re children.  Even more than _Billy_ , they’re children.”  Selina snuggled closer to him. 

“But they’re yours, more or less.”

“Can I put them up for adoption?”

“Well, I guess you have to make up for all those orphans of your own somehow.  Put some of them back into the system.”  He groaned and rolled over in bed. 

“. . . Who bet that I wouldn’t bring the suit?”

“Barry.  He’s so naïve.”


	2. Lessons, Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The school year is starting. Babs makes plans for the future, Tim finally gets to make Bat-social-media, and Damian is going to high school.

* * *

**Barbara**

“Because we’re back to school shopping, and life is a fucking nightmare,” Stephanie sang while they wheeled through Target. 

“There is something deeply wrong with the school system to require all this,” agreed Damian, perusing her college booklist.  It was just easier to go shopping together for the generic stuff before they all split off. 

“There is no way textbooks should be this much for how much anyone uses them,” frowned Tim. 

“How do you think the profs make extra money?” Jason scoffed, “When they can add a foreword and stamp their name onto any textbook and charge extra?”

“We’re buying on the Wayne tab; why are you all complaining?” Duke frowned. 

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Tim said.

* * *

Using the excuse of the principle of the thing is hard when your father really is just worried for you. 

“What were you _thinking_?” he hissed. 

“I was thinking that, while working tech on Wayne’s dime was fine and all, I’d like to get a job.”

“Yeah, well, this wasn’t exactly what I thought you had in mind!”

She secretly applied to the police academy without telling anyone.  She didn’t get any recommendation letters from Dick or her father.  She aced the fuck out of all of the tests.

“You know I’m going to try the new therapy that Wayne’s outsourcing,” she said evenly, “And you know I can’t stand being sidelined.”

“I’d hardly call what you’re doing ‘sidelined’, Oracle,” he snapped.  Her eyes widened. 

“What?”

“I kept it to myself, sure—after all, three can keep a secret if two are dead—but good lord, Barbara—”

“Did you know all of it?” she interrupted, still shocked.  He leveled a glare at her. 

“I’m a detective, dammit, and I can even tell the difference between Dick and Bruce under the cowl, now that you mention it.”

It was like someone had pulled her chair out from under her.  He raised an eyebrow. 

“I knew Bruce Wayne before I knew the Bat.  Don’t assume I’m an idiot because I go along with the whole thing and keep my distance.”  She stared for a few seconds before huffing out a laugh. 

“I should’ve figured.  Hey, do you happen to know about the rest of the Justice League?  I’ve got all their files and could run through and see what you know—”

“No thank you. I would rather sit in my plausible deniability bubble with the rest of the superheroes for at least a little longer.”

“Have at it,” she rolled her eyes. 

He stared at the floor for a minute or so before asking if this was what she really wanted.  And it was—she was going to work, she was going to live.  She knew that she would never be Batgirl again, but at the very least she could live her goddamn life and not let the Joker completely incapacitate her. 

(No one knew that Bruce finally had a breakthrough with one of his boarding school buddies knowing a great surgeon and some robot tech that could help her move through physical therapy and get her mostly walking again. 

She was not going to let anyone be disappointed by failed attempts.  Bruce had offered, but she’d declined and then directly contacted the man, whose friend had also been paralyzed with a similar spinal injury. 

In between the police academy, Oracle duty, and therapy, she would be one busy lady.  But living well was the best revenge.)

Take that, clown.

* * *

**Cassandra**

“Dance courses are going to increase in difficulty,” warned Mme. Gira, shoes clicking on the tile.  “You must understand your body’s abilities and limitations.  You must practice on your own twice as much as we rehearse here _at least_ if you want to think about succeeding.  If you don’t like blood, bruises, or broken or sprained or twisted things on your body, do the work correctly or get out.  Am I understood?”

So many words.  Cass resisted the urge to roll her eyes—as if she didn’t already have an inkling as to how hard physical and artistic sports would push her.  Other students hadn’t gotten the memo, though, because some of them shifted in their seats uncomfortably, like they wanted to bolt. 

Though, she supposed, it could also just be Gira’s persona making them uneasy.  After all, she seemed to be the stern, knowledgeable, practical type.  If she was inclined to be a supervillain, she’d probably be more successful than most. 

She checked her phone.  The group chat was going a little crazy. 

_Tim: I’m just saying the #onlyingotham thing is hilarious and we should definitely have a social media base. People would be able to respond way quicker than the usual routes_

_Babs: Do you remember at all what happened with the Titans?_

_Dick: but this one would include b probs amr? so you know he’d tamp down the crazy_

_Steph: then it’d be no fun, dick_

Cas leaned up on her desk and sighed quietly. 

Her family was crazy.

_Cass: maybe everyone should just follow some ground rules for it for sanity’s sake_

_Tim: CASS APPROVES F U ALL_

_Jason: Hell yes_

Minutes later, they each had a Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr account dedicated to their alter egos.  Cass bit her lip with a smile at seeing the handles and the profiles that were quickly becoming a reality.  Tim clearly already had them planned out.  After class, she scrolled through them, grinning at the profile bios. Batman’s was all identical, and the only image available was the bat symbol.  It was the exact opposite of Bruce’s social media—cluttered with selfies, promotions for Wayne Enterprises things, activist articles.  There was currently nothing on the Batman pages but links to the other Batman pages and general stuff that he followed—the other members of the family, GCPD, the League’s official pages.

_@batofgotham_

The others had a bit more personality, to say the least. 

_@diamondkitcat _

_Catwoman, wife of the Bat, former thief.  Yes, I will post cat videos, and I understand the irony._

_@lesbat783_

_Batwoman, Birds of Prey member. Kicking ass for free._

_@nightwing_wonder_

_literally all I have are memes_

_@red-hooded-bat_

_The purpose of man's life, say both, is to become an abject zombie who serves a purpose he does not know, for reasons he is not to question. ~Ayn Rand_

_@orphan-blackbatgirl_

_You won’t see me unless I want you to._

_@blubirbpride_

_Look, if you’re going to pretend anyone’s less than human because of who they like to take to bed, you’re going to get some tea. Boiling. In your lap._

_@redrob333border_

_You spend a lot of time proving to a robot that you are not a robot. Think about it._

_@oraclegirl_

_Pretty much just done with your shit. But, you know, affectionately._

_@thesignaldude_

_If you’ve recently been saved by me @ me to check in in the morning k?_

_@spoileralert_batgirl_

_Unlike most bats, I enjoy a little color and joy in life._

_@warriorbird_

_Robin._

It was . . . it wasn’t surprising at all, to be honest.  She knew already that “Officer Dick Grayson” would be tweeting back and forth with Nightwing in two weeks with Bludhaven and Gotham residents shipping the two in three. (She was off slightly—it only took a week for Dick to start cackling in the cave while his phone blew up with notifications from both accounts.)

* * *

**Jason**

“Uh, hey,” Jason blinked.  “What are you doing here?”  He’d been asleep on a couch on the floor common room, but for some reason the Outlaws teams were standing over him.  At school.  Where they definitely did not attend. 

“You’re going to college—least you could do is invite us over for a tour,” grinned Roy.  Jason stared for a moment and sighed. 

“Well, there’s no getting rid of you, so here we go.”  Jason began to lead his friends around campus, explaining his usual stops and classes. 

Roy looked very thoughtful the whole way through, and Jason saw right through him, so he sent him links to general applications and academic assistance sites. 

Starfire and Artemis led them all on a bar crawl, which was awesome but mostly terrifying.  He had to laugh at the guy trying to argue with Kori at Molly’s Pub just south of the Diamond District. 

“I’m just saying, it’s not like you could pick up a decently sized guy.  Women just don’t have that upper body strength,” the guy said.  Artemis and Kori glanced at each other and then locked eyes with Jason and Roy. 

_Oh no._  

Within twenty-seven seconds, Jason was being lifted like a weight at the gym.  Artemis and Kori were glaring at the challenger while they pointedly lifted a companion each.  He and Roy were facing each other as the two women didn’t even bother bench pressing them—they were straight up just doing deadlifts.  Jason was glad he’d taken his jacket off earlier, but he was also suspicious that Kori’s death grip on his bicep and thigh would leave all of the bruises. 

“This is fine,” Roy muttered, “Totally fine.  Hey, is anyone recording this?  This is hilarious.”  Jason blew a hanging lock of hair out of his eye. 

“Frankly—” up “—I just—” down “—wanted some—” up “—tequila.  Is that too much to ask for?” he grunted as Kori set him down.  

“Here, Hood,” Bizarro offered, handing him a shot glass. 

“Thank Wonder Woman,” he muttered. 

“You’re welcome?” answered Artemis, amused.  Jason rolled his eyes.

* * *

Of course, unlike most students, Jason _did_ read the books he had for college.  He was probably the best student of the bats overall—and that really said a lot about how his being the black sheep might not actually be a bad thing. 

But that was the bitter voice in the back of his mind, not his actual inner dialogue. 

Regardless, he was reading because nothing could really relax him otherwise.  His short story class had finally picked up “The Sparkling Bitch”, and he was having.  Well. 

It was giving him weird vibes. 

He sent the story to Roy.

_Does this feel familiar to you, or am I crazy?_

His notes said things about globalization, economy, culture shock.  His margins said _stealing my tires? Come live in a mansion kid_ next to a highlighted passage about a random socialite lady giving a starving kid fifty bucks like he’d know what to do with it, then starving herself to make a point to her asshole CEO husband.

_Replace green dress with arrow or bat suit?_ Roy guessed. 

Yeah.  That was his feeling—that woman wearing a green dress to the gala with her husband, showing off her skeletal body and matted hair and bad stench underneath all the glitz.  It was a statement, sure, but a pointless one.  She definitely didn’t solve anything for the actual starving kid, but she did punish the asshole.

* * *

**Bruce**

“I’m sending you to Gotham Academy in the fall, Damian,” Bruce began.  His son’s eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head. 

“You are?”

Well, that was better than the screaming, fighting, or general outrage he’d expected. 

He’d been worried, of course.  Some of Damian’s tutors had found him difficult, and the one time early on that he’d gone to fifth grade with other children, well—Bruce had donated a lot of money to keep that disaster mostly a secret.  Just like he’d paid most major news and paparazzi groups to keep their distance from Damian while he was a minor.  In exchange, Damian would occasionally join in on exclusive interviews or events with his siblings. 

Damian _hated_ most children his age at first, and civilians in general he found to be beneath him.  He found everyone beneath him, except for Dick, Talia, Alfred, and himself (he’d never understand how easily Damian seemed to include him in that circle.  He’d taken so much time to warm up to Dick and Alfred, and he quickly dropped serious ties with his mother after her bounty on him.  It was astounding.  Bruce didn’t know what he did, but he’d fight to never undo whatever it was that gained his son’s trust.)

“I believe you’ll benefit from spending time with peers your own age.  Yes, you have the Titans, but you gain a lot from knowing civilians, too.  We vigilantes and heroes aren’t all exactly the most well-adjusted bunch,” Bruce folded his hands, forcing himself not to fidget more than necessary. 

“I see.  Are there elective classes?  What sort of extracurriculars are there?  I imagine you’ve already vetted the security, so I’ll just deal with the things that are of interest to me.” 

And though Damian was every bit the vicious fighter trained by the League, he was the quiet, thoughtful animal lover that never ceased to amaze Bruce.  He was growing up.  Bruce smiled and began to answer his questions. 

* * *

**Koriandr**

It was truly a miracle that anyone stayed away from Dick Grayson, given the option to get close.  “Boy Wonder” wasn’t too far off—he’d always made Kori feel like she was a wonder to him.  And he was sweet, smart, and generous. 

But the boy had commitment problems and tried too hard to please everyone.  It would end in disaster if she’d stayed (she’d never regret Mar’i, though).

She liked to think, sometimes, that they might have worked out.  But he was still hung up on Babs, on Wally, on his own issues.  The Gotham boys never seemed to really grow past things quickly, and she couldn’t wait around for him to make that decision. 

Which left her a bit baffled at Wally’s suggestion now.  She, Wally, and Barbara were all at a corner café in Central City. 

“We all know we’re not over him,” was his explanation for the idea that they try a polyamorous relationship with all of them and him.  Barbara snorted. 

“You do realize the redhead harem jokes won’t cease?  Like, of course we’ll be able to tease him about it, but so will everyone else because it would be true.”

“And what about us?  It would be an ideal situation for Richard, but for the rest of us—”

“Well, we can work on that, but I certainly wouldn’t say no to dating just him or either of you in any combination,” the speedster confessed, “Uncle Barry instilled a respect for strong women in me.  What can I say?”

Kori considered the idea.

It would be far more difficult to manage multiple relationships, but the ability to have all of that support and love—

Well.  She liked that idea. 

“I’m certainly willing to consider it.  Barbara?”  She blinked. 

“Really?  Well.  I’ll have to think on it, but I’m not saying no yet, I suppose.”

“Excellent,” Wally laughed.  Kori smiled. 

“Now we just have to figure out how to ambush him with this.”

* * *

It was some weeks later that she left Mar’i with Roy, Lian, and Jason before meeting with Barbara and Wally again.  They’d had individual meetings, late night calls, the whole nine yards—it wasn’t perfect, mind.  Barbara and her had both actually had relationships with Dick before, and Wally was someone who’d already done the pining from afar game more than once. 

She’d known poly groups before, of course. On Tamaran, they were far more common than on Earth, and she’d had family members together in that sense.  She understood that Earth was still in the process of accepting more freedoms of the heart.  

“Is this a meeting of the redhead Dick Grayson fan club?” snorted Tim when he passed them in the manor.

“More or less,” grinned Kori, “We’re seducing him.  But also getting him to date us.”  Tim spluttered for a moment, but just shook his head. 

“I really, really don’t want to know.”

* * *

 

**Damian**

“Aw, man, high school?” Jon complained, “That sucks.  I would totally not be ready.”

“Two years and you’ll be right where I am now, except probably in a public school,” Damian didn’t say it with a fierce smirk like he might have a few years ago.  Jon did it for him. 

“Right, you’ll be at the snobby private school.  What are you signing up for?  There’s no way you’re just going to show up for classes and leave.”

“I’ll be taking some art courses, joining an animal rescue club, and probably do fencing if the program is worth my time.”

“Ooh, animal rescue?  Sure you won’t just take all the animals in?”

“I know I won’t be able to properly tend to all of them, no matter how much I’d like to.  Which is why I’m learning how to help them beyond my own personal care.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine that.”  Damian blinked. 

“You live on a farm half the time.”

“And?”

“You _do_ have cows and chickens.  I’ve been there.  You know how to take care of at least twenty-five animals at once.”  Jon’s face flushed red. 

“Oh.  Uh.  Right.”

* * *

Gotham Academy brought new challenges, but mainly they were time-management related.  Damian already had to cut down on patrol during the school year before, but high school and all its activities required more attention than homeschooling. 

He wouldn’t mind it as much if his classmates weren’t so . . .

There wasn’t a word for it, really.  Self-absorbed wasn’t quite right.  Neither was boring or weak.  All words he might have given them at some point, but maybe it was just that they were normal.  That it was easy for them, that they didn’t have to think about it. 

“So, I was thinking of going to Kath’s birthday party, but it’s just hard because you _know_ Isla’s gonna be there,” he overheard.  A lot of these students already knew each other.  Already had friends with them.  Damian had Jon, Colin, his family, and Raven—not exactly accessible at school, but still. 

“You know it doesn’t matter much in the end, Mia,” snorted her friend. 

“You can just avoid Isla if that’s going to be a problem,” Damian said. 

“Fair,” the first one pouted.  “But . . . yeah, okay, fair.  Damon, right?”

“Damian,” he corrected.  She smirked. 

“I know.  Just messing with you.  Olive Silverlock.  Hey, are you in art next?  I am.  Mr. McGinnis is an awesome teacher.”  Damian froze.  He knew that name. 

“I . . . am.  Yes.  Let’s go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to school Monday, so this is fairly apt for me to post now. It'll be my senior year in college! I don't have a ton of specific plot plans for this one yet, even less than the first one, but I'm working on it. This of course also means a slow, sporadic update deal, but again, I'm trying my best. No, the teacher isn't Terry, but they are related because I like Easter eggs. Dick's bio is one of my sister's tumblr summaries, and Tim quoted John Mulaney, so I think I was pretty spot on as far as they go.  
> Not included in the chapter but my own personal opinion: the friend that got therapy options for Babs is Tony Stark, who originally created the tech for Rhodey. Fight me on this, I swear.  
> See ya next time!


	3. What You Deserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian faces bullies.

* * *

**Damian**

Damian got to his Spanish class early.  Most students loathed learning another language—he was definitely going to pay attention to some degree to get the nuances down, but between all of his tutors and patrolling with Jason, he definitely had a knack for learning languages quickly. 

Hence his asking his teacher about essentially skipping out. 

“My mother had me learn multiple while I grew up.  I worked on more when I moved in with my father, one of which was Spanish.  Can I be excused from Spanish to work on another elective or project, Ms. Alect?”  She seemed surprise. 

“May I test you on your other languages, Damian?” He nodded. 

“To be fair, English is not my first language,” he continued.  “But yes—my Arabic, Farsi, and Mandarin were all taught to me at a young age.  My mother was already trilingual and often had assistance in raising me.  One of my brothers—Jason—often speaks Spanish, so I’m decently conversational in it.  Or as conversational as I am with him in English,” he said wryly.  She asked him in Farsi if he spoke much of it at home.  He nodded, telling her he often spoke to his pets in Farsi and teased his brothers in Arabic.  She then asked in Arabic which brothers he teased the most. 

Definitely Tim.  She switched to more complicated questions, seeing what he could say—she did not know Mandarin, but he could definitely appreciate what she knew of everything else. 

“Good of your mother to teach you at such a young age.  That’s the best time to learn languages,” approved Ms. Alect.  Damian tried not to snort—succeeded, barely.  Talia al Ghul would hardly appreciate the approval of Ms. Rhonda Alect, sincere though it was. 

Aisha, who sat next to him in Calc, squealed excitedly and joined in the conversation in Arabic. 

As the other students passed by the teacher’s desk to enter class, one of the boys snorted. 

“Fuckin’ terrorists,” he muttered under his breath.  Damian’s head whipped towards the offender, glaring while the teacher gasped and reprimanded him.  The kid—a spotted, pink-in-the-face blonde, rolled his eyes. 

“After all, you’re from Qurac or something, right?” 

“Actually, Tibet, where Mount Everest is, in case you only know the geography of three U.S. states,” Damian replied without missing a beat.  He grit his teeth instead of continuing _I was born a prince and a warrior and I fight for people’s lives every night. What makes you think you’re worth more than me?_   Of course, that got a reprimand from Ms. Alect as well, but not nearly as harsh as the other kid. 

* * *

“You gonna fight me or what?” asked the kid from Spanish the next day, this time at a break during an outdoor session of art. 

“. . . Why?” Damian asked. 

“Dunno.  Figured the glare you gave me was worth a backpack bomb or a knife to the throat.” Damian laughed, which only served to make the kid go red. 

“I will admit at ten I would definitely have held you at knifepoint, but you’re hardly worth my time.  It’s Aisha I want you to leave alone.  What’s your name?”

“Alex.”

“Okay, Alex.  Do us all a favor and shut your mouth about supposed violent tendencies.  It’s tiring and annoying to me because my brothers already make those comments—because I _was_ that edgy, dumb kid.  Don’t even bother trying to push my buttons.  It’s Gotham—I might become the next dumb gimmicky supervillain.”

But Alex’s eyes glinted. 

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a joke.”

“I could get you kicked out for threatening the school, you know.”

“And I could get you kicked out for harassment, racial comments, and bullying, but here we are, both at school.”

“You didn’t record me,” Alex replied, holding up his phone and pressing play.  A tinny Damian drawled out the speaker:

“—that kid.  Don’t even bother trying to push my buttons.  It’s Gotham—I might become the next dumb gimmicky supervillain.”  Great, the kid thought he was clever. 

“What makes you think I don’t get bugged on the way to school?  I’m Damian Wayne, dumbass.”  The kid snorted. 

“Sure, you are.  Doesn’t Wayne just adopt left and right?  Was your mom a sob story charity case or a slu—”

“Shut up,” Damian snapped.  “I wasn’t born then.  I don’t know how they were.  I _will_ report you, Alex.”

“Damian, Alex, break’s over.  Get back to your projects,” called Mr. McGinnis, gesturing them back to where the rest of the class was meandering back to. 

It didn’t stop there. 

He didn’t think anything of them, other than that they were the pointless kind of mean.  When they turned on Aisha for her hijab, he immediately made a biting comment to turn them away.  It was a constant thing—having to protect her because she didn’t need the comments. 

It gave him uncomfortable reminders. 

_You should remember who the blood son is._

_Bloodthirsty, more like._

Flashes of blades.  Heat.  Explanations of how to piece together a bomb, hand-to-hand. 

_My little prince, you will take your place in the world._ He thought about the League of Assassins. 

_Fuckin’ terrorists._

Well.  They weren’t wrong. 

* * *

 

**Dick**

Damian definitely had something going on.  No one was sure what it was, but he was standoffish and quiet.  He didn’t even let Bruce or Dick in—just stalked back to his room whenever he wasn’t needed. 

So when he got a call from Damian’s art teacher, he wasn’t too surprised.  He met the man in his office at the school—full of art pieces and scattered supplies.  Homey but more or less organized. 

“Mr. Grayson, I understand you’re not the main caregiver, but I wasn’t sure if I could reach Mr. Wayne,” said the man.  “I’m Warren McGinnis, Damian’s art teacher.  Normally I’d go to the administration before talking with a family member, but this seemed . . . personal.  I’ll put it bluntly: Damian’s being bullied.”  Dick raised his eyebrows.  He was kind of surprised—Damian was hardly one to let people get away with that.  He would have expected some stabbing reports or some retaliation. 

“It’s not just him, either, but I believe he’s antagonizing the bully to keep the heat off another student.  That and I think there’s some blackmail going on.  It’s . . . well, I hate to assume, but I’m pretty sure it’s because of his racial background.”

Oh _hell_ no.

The Romani in Dick was raging at history repeating itself, but it was clear the teacher was here to help, so he bit his tongue rather than snapping. 

“Mr. McGinnis, why has no one gone to the administration about this?” Dick asked, deadly Nightwing _don’t fuck with me_ calm still seeping through. 

“I think I’m the only teacher that’s noticed.  I know kids normally don’t come to teachers about these things, and I’d hate to make it worse by intervening the wrong way.  Would Damian be averse to some help, or—”

“Damn.  You’ve got Dami pinned; he’d be insulted by help for a situation he thinks he can handle.”

“It’s been going on for about a week; it’s definitely a habitual routine, not a one-time encounter.  I’d like permission to bring the administration in on this, but you’re his family.  You likely know far better how he would react than I would.”

“He doesn’t like people intervening,” Dick huffed, “No matter how much he needs it.”

“I see,” Mr. McGinnis paused.  “Perhaps an alliance, then?  I can’t favor students outwardly.  The bully isn’t even in many of my classes, though, and I can warn other teachers to watch for evidence.”

“Or you could speak to me instead of about me,” declared Damian, who must have snuck up on his teacher.  McGinnis jumped, and Dick hid a smirk. 

“How much of that did you hear?” Mr. McGinnis asked, frowning. 

“From ‘He doesn’t like people intervening’.  I don’t.  But I know sometimes it’s necessary.  I’d like to deal with Alex and his friend Mark—they’ve been harassing Aisha and I.  I’m the only one that fights back because I can take it and she doesn’t deserve it.” 

“You don’t deserve it either, Damian,” Mr. McGinnis said gently, “You aren’t what they say you are.”

“What, a killer?  A terrorist?  I was.” 

Silence.  Dick would have done a dramatic gasp had it been a soap opera scene.  McGinnis eyed his student warily.  Damian’s eyes were shining a little too wetly, and his nose was turning red.  Those boys had unknowingly hit on one of his few insecurities. 

“My actual background is classified information for a reason, sir.”  _Ugh, no need to intimidate people on your side.  I blame Bruce for everyone’s emotional constipation._

“Dami, you don’t have to—you know that isn’t what you are now.”  They’d let it sit too long already—the kids’ harassment no doubt put ideas in his head, or they reinforced the worst of his own doubts.  Dick knew the drill. 

“I’m fully aware of how my life and choices have changed, Grayson.  I imagine the same would be the case for you after four years of being with Father, right?  After four years of Todd, Drake, Brown, Cain, or I?  The people around me have changed me.  My past hasn’t changed, though.”  McGinnis frowned. 

“I don’t pretend to know anything about it, Damian, but you do know that the comments they’re making are sweeping generalizations, regardless of what your personal past is?  This is Gotham.  We’ve all had a taste of the weird shadows around town.  Hell, I still owe my life and that of my little brother to the first Robin.  You’re right—four years changes you.  Let us give those boys a reason to change, huh?”  Damian’s mouth twisted. 

“Right.”

* * *

 

When Mar’i came home crying from a sleepover for almost the same reason—little girls joking about her perpetual fake tan—Dick was seething. 

“I will make a public fucking statement that anyone that messes with my mixed-race family for the simple fact that they look or speak differently will find out what it’s like to dangle off Wayne Tower for an hour and a half,” he growled, ripping a hand through his hair. 

“This is the point where you talk him down from a rage while quietly planning the slaughter of whoever hurt Mar’i,” Kori explained to Wally. 

“I think I’m already on that,” he replied, embracing Dick on the couch and cuddling while his face clearly said _bitching the soccer mom out that raised those little racists-to-be_. 

“Here,” Barbara grinned, “He likes his head scratched.  Behind his ears, like this.”

“You’re giving away all my secrets,” Dick whined. 

“Hey, it’s three on one, and Wally needs to catch up.”

“Don’t worry, I’m—”

“Don’t you fucking say it, West,” Barbara warned. 

“—pretty fast.”

* * *

Wally was locked out of his own social media for the next twenty four hours with no hope of getting back in. 

* * *

**Damian**

He knew full well that Mark and Alex would do what they wanted when they wanted to. 

McGinnis was strange about it.  He did alert the administration—who, when paid, gave each boy a slap on the wrist and an hour with a counselor on sensitivity to other cultures. 

They just got slightly sneakier about the comments.

Grayson did his version of “helping” by explaining his experiences—which wasn’t exactly help, but there was a grim solidarity knowing someone also knew the taste of those bitter swallows he took after hearing the jeers as usual. 

McGinnis assigned a new project—a sculpture with components based on favorite Justice League members and personal connections to them.  Everyone received a slip of paper with a hero and were allowed to trade until everyone had a different one, but the one they wanted. 

Damian had Shazam, so he called Billy Batson for advice. 

“It’s like—being stuck in a body that isn’t yours, sometimes.  It isn’t always when I’m Shazam, though.  Sometimes I don’t fit as Billy.”

Damian could work with that—looking up at Bruce and Dick in the cowl, knowing that he was still too small, too young for anything like that, but always feeling so _shut in tight_ as Robin, as Damian.  He was bigger and smaller than he ought to be. 

Playing with proportions would do it, then—making a decently sized Shazam bolt with echoing smaller and smaller shapes, a silhouette of someone in the smallest one and the outline of a chest around the largest. 

Of course, McGinnis’s favorite part about the whole ordeal was titling—coming up with pretentious, dumb, punny, weird titles.  Anything was allowed so long as it was somewhat appropriate.  _One Size Fits All Superpower_ seemed to be the right progression for Damian’s piece.  (Aisha, who’d gotten Batman, had done lovely, elegant bat origami things that twisted in a swarm through a cutout poster of Gotham and called it _Exactly what you’d expect._ He had a sneaking suspicion that she was using Cards Against Humanity to inspire all her titles, but he wasn’t about to let McGinnis in on that fact).

* * *

 

**Warren McGinnis**

He did, in fact, know that Aisha’s last few projects (Bees?, A Gentle Caress, Tiny Horse, and Inevitable Heat Death) were all Cards Against Humanity options.  He’d been planning on warning her that she was teetering on the edge of plagiarism rather than just being funny. This one was too perfect not to let slide, however. 

The children were all quite bright, honestly.  Even the misinformed or poorly disciplined ones.  His younger brother, in pre-med, often talked about how he’d only ever want two or three kids because he was so antsy with dealing with them.  At least teens and adults were somewhat fully formed humans. 

But that was him—Warren had always preferred the school setting, no kids of his own. 

Damian had shown promise as a potential professional when it came to his artwork.  He was thoughtful and honest—if there were flaws, he was well aware of them.  If there were pros to a situation, he was aware, too. 

Honesty like that was hard to come by, even with kids in this school—already they were learning to hold things close to the chest to get others to like them or to trust them. 

He wondered whether that was a Gotham thing or a growing-up thing. 

* * *

“Why don’t you just go back to where you came from, huh?  Bet you anything daddy only took you in to shut up your mother,” Mark jeered.  Damian raised an eyebrow, but did nothing else. 

“Right?  Come on, it’s got to be something like that.  You’ll probably be deported if they can even find her,” sneered Alex.  Damian turned to face them both directly. 

“I guarantee you that, of anyone, you’d probably be more terrified of my mother than my father.  He could hardly ‘shut her up’ with a stack of cash or taking me in. And you really don’t need anything involving where I came from.”  More fuel to the fire then—Warren sighed. 

“Enough.  Boys.  You are harassing Damian with racist, bigoted comments.  You have been doing so for the past two weeks now.  It’s over.  I’m going to explain first to the administration, then directly to your and Damian’s parents what you’ve done.  Is that understood?”

* * *

**Bruce**

“Damian’s being bullied.”

Everyone’s eyes snapped to Dick, and Bruce’s mind was racing. 

“What the hell?” Jason frowned.  Alfred even looked confused.  Dick sighed and looked him in the eye. 

“Remember the gypsy jokes while I was in school?  Yeah, a resurgence of dumb racist kids has cropped up at Gotham Academy.  His art teacher finally caught them directly in the act, so they’re going to have a meeting with the kids and parents tomorrow night.”

“Okay, who’s going?” Jason asked.  “I’d pay good ex-drug-lord money to see Talia walk into a parent-teacher conference, B.  You know this.”

“Um, Talia would murder them,” Steph said, appalled. 

“Nah, they’d be so under her radar,” Jason argued, “like a fly.  She’d demolish them, though,” he said, “with words.”

“Why are we not considering Dick?  He’s practically Damian’s mom some days,” Tim said, “Don’t give me that look, Bruce, you know it’s true.”

Was that a migraine?  It probably was. 

“I’ve been involved enough,” Dick put up his hands defensively, “No way.  I’ve heard about every single nasty comment.  Damian eggs them on so they don’t bother anyone else.  He’s infuriatingly noble about the whole thing—I’d be proud if I weren’t so angry for him.  I’d explode at the administration after my turn at the Office of Disciplining Racist Bullies: In Which Bruce Tries So Hard Not To Be Batman.”

“I’m going,” said Selina, a smirk on her face as she entered the kitchen.  She’d just come back from patrol.  “And so will Talia.  I have her number.”  When did _that_ happen? 

Yes, that was definitely a migraine.  He warned Alfred to have some wine ready when they got back.

* * *

 

Mark and Alex sat in the office across from Damian.  The two bullies had particularly pinched-in faces as they glanced between their parents and their . . . victim (because for all that they’d tormented him, he’d always coolly talked back without any sort of cracks in composure). 

Talia and Selina were on either side of Damian, and Bruce was behind them.  He really didn’t need to do the whole “protective father” thing when he had this—all the same, he wasn’t so sure this was a good idea on Selina’s part. 

Talia had had Damian killed, and here she was, in a principle’s office over his being bullied.  Bruce really did not understand her priorities—never really had. 

Damian, for once, was looking slightly uncomfortable. 

“You say Damian instigated this,” the principal raised his eyebrows at Mark. 

“He said that he could make the Joker look like a party clown with how he’d mess with us,” the kid said.  Damain snorted. 

“I never said that.  What it started with is that I wanted to be excused from Spanish as I’m already polylingual, and I was talking with Ms. Alect about using that time to work on other school projects.  She was talking to me in multiple languages and I replied in whatever one she asked.  Aisha joined in the Arabic conversation.  Alex said—and I quote—‘fucking terrorists’.”  Talia’s eyes brightened, but she didn’t say anything. 

“I’ve already confirmed with Aisha and Ms. Alect that this was the case, but that was only the beginning?”

“But he _is_ ,” Mark whined, “He even told Mr. McGinnis.” His parents gaped at his blunt reply.  Damian stiffened. 

“I don’t think you eavesdropped on the whole conversation, or you would have heard that I’m _not_.  He’d be obligated to report me if I made threats.”  Selina turned to the parents. 

“What do you four think?  From where I’m sitting, it sounds like your kids are quite the little racists.  Did you have anything to do with this?”

Mark’s parents were appalled at his comment earlier, and they shook their heads. 

“I can’t believe this, honestly.  We raised him better than that.  I suppose we should have monitored his friends more closely,” said his mother, red in the face.  He was quickly turning the same shade. 

 Alex’s parents were an entirely different matter. 

“Well, it’s not like you can be too careful these days,” muttered his father. 

“Careful of what, sir?  Is my son’s mere presence frightening you?” asked Talia.  Selina snorted. 

“Damian’s a model student with a bunch of extracurriculars.  All of his teachers like him well enough.  Most of the students, too, bar your kid’s crowd.”  The mother was flustered, to say the least. 

“Well, I don’t see why you both are here, unless Wayne really did start a harem,” she hissed. 

“No, that was Dick,” Damian said automatically. 

All of the adults spluttered (excluding Selina and Talia). 

“I think you’re well aware that I’m Damian’s mother, and that Selina is his father’s wife.  And you call that a harem? What a sad little life that must be—to find sodomy in simple changing relationships,” Talia said. 

“We’re getting off topic,” the principal interrupted. 

“No, I think she’s onto something,” Selina said, “You do understand that what your child did was wrong, correct?  That his racist comments came from somewhere, and that reflects poorly on you.  I’m only half-guessing, sweetheart, but you’ve been eyeing me since I got here.  What gives?”

“Selina, allow me,” Bruce said, finally making a comment.  He stood up and leaned over the others. 

“Now, tell me—what did my son do to warrant the harassment your sons have brought on him?”  He raised his eyebrows when they couldn’t come up with a response.  “Surely he _did_ something to deserve it?  Exist, perhaps?  Be the talented young man he is?  Have a temper—goodness knows Talia had one while we were together—but its clearly his blood that’s bothering your son, so I can only imagine it’s your problem too.  Well.  Damian is my blood.  I know you’re well aware of how far back the Wayne family has gone in Gotham—if his mother is the issue, I invite you to take it up with her.  But this is not the way people ought to be treated.”  Damian glanced up—it wasn’t Brucie Wayne, but a steely Bat glare that bored into his tormentors. 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Mark’s father agreed, “Believe me, my son will get disciplined as necessary.”

“And yours?”

“Suspension without excused absences until we can find a further solution,” offered the principal.  Damian shrugged. 

“I mean, if it happens again, I can’t be held responsible for unsavory responses.

“Fair,” he sighed.  “I’m sorry for the trouble, Damian.  I’ve always tried to stress that people should treat one another how they’d treat those precious to them.  I will see to it that further courses of action be taken.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said. 

* * *

 

**Damian**

He would never, ever tell the rest of them that the weight on his shoulders was lifted.  He didn’t want to have to be Robin at school, too.

“Thanks,” Aisha said as she passed his desk to sit behind him.  “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” he said, “I could handle them.”  She smiled wryly. 

“Thanks, all the same.  Hey, McGinnis caught on to my title system—what do you think I can do to bullshit an excuse that all my pieces are connected and need to keep the titles?”  Damian smirked, an idea forming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hard for me to write, but I really wanted to include a Damian-centric chapter like this because damn if that boy would have a weird time of it - on one hand, he knows his worth, but on the other, he definitely is too self aware not to make connections like that. He's a Robin; he's going to go the self-deprecating route. Anyone have any preferred events they'd like to have happen in this work? I've got ideas, but none of them connect so I'd love input. Comments encourage me to write more :)


	4. Designs, Promotions, and the Adventures of Nightwing and Officer Grayson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Conner hash out some new beginnings, Steph's internship takes an interesting turn, and we no one can decide whether it should be Graywing or Dickwing.

* * *

**Tim**

“Kon, hand me the McMurry file, would you?”

“Right—here.  So the shipments came in Thursday, and Roy thinks it’s probably LexCorp.”

“Roy _always_ blames LexCorp when it comes to ray guns,” Tim pointed out. 

“He’s usually right,” Conner began to leaf through the folders before passing it over.  “How’s college starting?”

“ _Ugh._ ”

“That bad, huh?”

“May keeps whining about the dumbest stuff.  Why can't I just go in for exams, ace them, and leave with a degree instead of dealing with so many extra things? . . . I dunno.  I guess I was just hoping that people would be less petty without their parents to hide behind, but it just turns out they’re worse.”

Conner snorted. 

“You?  Hoping for people to be honest?”  Tim frowned. 

“I know I’m a bit suspicious, but—”

“And for good reason, I’ll grant that,” Kon said gently, “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a paranoid, cynical Bat.  Frankly, I thought suspicion and paranoia was just flat out a Gotham thing.”  Tim raised his eyebrows. 

“Fair.  Well, I won’t go into detail, but we had a time travel incident a few years ago that made me feel a bit better about the whole thing.  There’s more certainty when I have a deadline, right?” Kon paled. 

“ _Deadline_?”

“Not _dead_ line, no,” Tim waved his hand, “Just, like, I know there’s going to be a point where I can just stop firing on all cylinders all the time.” 

“You could stop now if you need to, you know.  The people that would judge you for it wouldn’t matter.”

“. . . We stopped talking about college, haven’t we?” Tim said, sighing.  He leaned back on the couch away from his boyfriend. 

“At least with the Titans I feel like a leader.  At home I’m not the runt anymore, but I can’t help but think sometimes that I’m just the kid with the camera again.” He hugged his knees to his chest.  

“This sounds big,” Conner guessed, “Are you saying you want to move to Titans tower more permanently?” Conner leaned over, putting an arm around his shoulder.  

“God no,” Tim shook his head.  “I think it’s the whole Red Robin thing.  There’s already a Red Hood and a Robin.  I need a change.  What about you?  I know two superboys running around might get confusing in the field.”

“Think Red Superboy would work?” he quipped with a grin, “But no.  I think just Kon El will be fine.  I’m going to switch up my outfit, though—I don’t think a t-shirt quite covers it now that I’m sort of well-known around Smallville and in Metropolis, but I’m definitely not doing the cape thing.  Help me figure it out?”

“If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s designing costumes.  Remember Discowing?  The first Red Hood getup?  I mean, I'm the Robin that started wearing pants. Ugh.  I know better.”

* * *

Tim was working on the design.  It was, at the moment, red and navy—kind of like a stealth suit version of Clark’s uniform, to some degree.  He left the S, boots, and gloves red, and the rest was a shifting black/blue shine that definitely would be hard to spot at night.  Using a 3D model really helped with the material paneling issues, but—

His boyfriend stormed into the apartment, exasperated. 

“What are you going to do with your life, Conner?  You can’t stay with Ma forever, Conner.  You need to get a job, Conner,” he grumbled in a booming, sanctimonious impression of Clark.  Tim continued to put away dishes, amused by his boyfriend’s rant. 

“I mean, he’s not wrong.”

“But if he’d just _ask_ he’d know I am!  You _know_ I’ve been applying to a bunch of schools.”  Tim grinned.  Kon never initiated stuff with Clark, even now, but they’d gotten along a hell of a lot better than they had at the beginning.  Tim had pointed it out on multiple occasions, but Kon just shrugged usually and said that it worked better that way. 

“I think this is the kind of thing _you_ announce, babe.  You wouldn’t ask Jon who he’s dating or big stuff right?  You’d expect him to tell you when important things are happening.”

“But that’s Jon—” Kon protested, “—he talks about everything.”

“And that’s what Clark is used to dealing with.  You’re not at his job; he’s not interviewing you.” 

Conner pouted, and Tim snapped a picture before he could get a different reaction.  Years of following the Bats had led to great on-the-fly photography from him—Steph always complained about his stealth pictures that he’d send to her without her knowing he was there.  Just teasing stuff—her eating waffles, losing to Jason at Battleship, that kind of thing.  It might have annoyed her, but Conner always found it cute.

Conner’s lips quirked.  Case and point. 

“See, now this is your contact photo.  Look what you did.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to Clark.”  He peeked over Tim’s shoulder at the design. 

“Nice.  It needs something, though . . . you know how Clark wears glasses?  I think I’m going to do the opposite,” he grinned.  “Like Dick before we knew his identity with Young Justice.”  Tim snorted. 

“Seriously?”

* * *

“A leather jacket and sunglasses, Kon?  Really?”

“You cannot tell me you don’t like it.”  With the new undercut he was sporting, it really did suit him. 

“. . . you’re not wrong.”

* * *

 

**Stephanie**

This was probably the worst internship ever. 

After the disaster that was Harley Quinn, most therapists ran for the hills when it came to Arkham.  No one would help the patients out at all.  Then, when they finally started trickling back in, they were nutsos of the other variety—spiteful asses that would rather punish and torture than help people recover.  Lawful evil jerks. 

Steph, being a sophomore psych major and godamn Batgirl, knew that her interests were a tiny bit skewed.  Just a bit.  But the whole staff was still low, and she would rather get money and resume cred for figuring out the crooks she’d put away and maybe helping them _not_ do the things they did before. 

It was small-time at first.  After all, she was just a student, and a vulnerable one at that.  Harleen Quinzel had been young, eager, funny, and blonde, too.  Probably not as annoying as Steph, though—you had to be open to get openness, and so her charisma had failed her with the Joker.  Steph just wasn’t about that life. 

People figured out who her father was quickly and distrusted her for that, too.  Still, she did her job—even got paid for it. 

The smarmy shrinks that probably needed to be incarcerated liked that she didn’t ask them questions—no, she just took notes to be discreetly handed off to the proper authorities.  Direct confrontation wasn’t always the answer. 

Just like with patients, as she was learning.  Some wouldn’t look you in the eye, no matter how unassuming you were.  Some people had tics that made others so second-hand embarrassed that they left.  Others were cruel, greedy, lazy.  Others were exactly like they were on the street.  Not all of them, though. 

It made visits to her father easier after work.  She didn’t go to him often, but enough that he knew she hadn’t died or moved to Switzerland. 

The first official Rogue that she’d run into was Harley herself—who was pretty tame, all things considered—so they talked about Steph’s coursework and how it had changed since Harley was in the field. 

“Well, that’s more of a linguistics thing than a difference in diagnosis,” she’d explained at one point, “over time the words become a derogatory thing, and medical professionals have to find a new word that isn’t being used as an insult, then _that_ gets taken over—”

“Right!  ‘Cause ‘mad’ and ‘crazy’ were as far as they could get without knowing what we know,” Harley nodded, “It’s just so _nitpicky_.”

“I agree, but here we are.  How’s Ivy doing?”

“She’s helping me with the holistic medicine thing,” Harley twirled a hand in the air like she was looking for the next thought.  “It’s doing good so far—combination of therapy with you, medicine as prescribed, and her, erm, other solutions.”

“It’s all that self-care stuff she’s posting about lately, right?  No need to be ashamed of that.”  Ivy had an Instagram that had a lot of plant care tips and beauty things. 

And alternative methods to self-medicate, as it appeared from Harley’s reactions. 

“It’s not a dependence thing?”

“Nah, it’s actually no more addictive than coffee.  It’s part tea and part using certain oils after a shower—it soothes some of the hyperactive stuff firing through me.  I dunno exactly how it works; it's been a long time since I was in charge of a chem lab that wasn't making laughing gas of some kind.”

* * *

Harley was pretty much harmless at Arkham, and people knew that, but the fact that she kept asking for Steph got her notoriety.  Suddenly other high profile inmates wanted Stephanie Brown, who clearly would give them a fair shake if she had to deal with her dad, to be the one to deal with. 

On one hand, it meant she was under even higher scrutiny—she couldn’t afford to look like a Harley waiting to happen, and she _definitely_ couldn’t get recognized as Batgirl. 

It was shocking how _few_ close calls she had—apparently, no one equated the meme-referencing Batgirl with the dry humored, slightly nervous new psych intern.  People were giving her more responsibility than necessary—more than was probably allowed, considering she was a student—but they were short staffed as hell and she was what the celebrity inmates wanted. 

For some reason. 

* * *

“Hi, Mr. Nygma.  Your usual therapist has the flu, so here I am,” Stephanie said, like she hadn’t been the one to bring him in two weeks ago. 

Her life was so goddamn weird.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Brown.  Can you tell me—what do you need to hear from me?”

“That depends entirely on what you want to say, Mr. Nygma.”

“Please, call me Ed,” he asked.  She nodded. 

_Don’t talk about stuff only you’d know.  Don’t talk about stuff only bats would know._

“Right.  Ed.  So, what are we talking about today?  What do you want to get out of this?”  Riddler fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves. 

“I’m hard won, easily lost.  People beg for me, but take me away in the name of safety.  What am I?” She frowned. 

“Freedom, I imagine?  Well, let’s break down how we can get you there.  Or at least how to get you to a point where that’s an option.  You haven’t exactly been a person we can allow to run around causing mayhem.”  He looked downright sheepish. 

“I’m not always myself.  There’s Ed, and then there’s the Riddler.”  She blinked.

“An alter?”

“More or less.  Sometimes it’s like there’s just one person in here,” he tapped his temple, “But then other times it’s so _obvious_ that there are two.”  Stephanie sucked in a long, slow breath. 

“Okay.  I am not a professional.  But I’m who you wanted and who they sent so I’ll do my damndest.  At the start of each session, I want you to tell me who is talking—Ed, the Riddler, or both.  Do you have a name preference when it’s both of you at once?” she asked.  His lips twitched. 

“Nygma, if you don’t mind.”  She nodded. 

“Right.  Right, Ed.  Let me know if there are shifts so I can keep my notes straight, okay?  Let’s begin.”

* * *

**Dick**

It had begun with Tim.  No, actually, that wasn’t right. 

It began with Amy Rohrbach betting Gannon Malloy that she could definitely get Nightwing to reenact various vines and memes on his Instagram and make it go viral.  Gannon, not to be outdone, decided to say he could get Dick to get even more likes than the vigilante on account of his own fame. 

Dick was, obviously, very conflicted.  Should he act like a responsible adult and say no when they ask? (of course not)  Should he throw the game on one end? (he had a reputation to maintain, no way) What vines should he reenact? (That would take some consideration for sure)

Officer Hogan had, predictably, stayed out of the entire affair, rolling his eyes with a huff.  Ebersol got dragged into the betting pool by Malloy, and luckily Chief Addad’s only admonition was, “Don’t break things, please, for the love of—” he sucked in a sharp breath and sighed. 

“Just . . . just don’t be dumb.  Please.”

* * *

Dick wasn’t dumb, so of course he was completely agreeable about the whole thing when Gannon and Amy approached him.  Nightwing was thrilled and flirty—with both of them—and Dick Grayson was happy to help, as always. 

“Do you have any suggestions for what you want?” he asked as Nightwing.  They glanced at each other. 

“Yeet someone off of the roof of Wayne Enterprises, and I don’t really care what happens next,” Amy said seriously.  Dick blinked. 

“Okay?”

* * *

Video posted to **Nightwing** @nightwing_wonder

_“I swear to all that is holy, Wing, do not,” growled Robin._

_“Please do,” Batgirl said from behind the camera, recording._

_“Please?” he begged, and Robin sighed._

_“ . . . only this time.  No more.”_

_Nightwing was so excited that the kid agreed, his face looked like it was going to break in two._

_“This bitch empty!” he said, grabbing Robin, who had his grapple ready._

_“YEET!” and tossed the kid off.  A click and zipping sound could be heard while Nightwing posed smugly for the camera._

_Right before it cut, Robin swung back around in front of Nightwing, screaming “I’m a giraffe!”_

* * *

Video posted to **Officer Dick (** **✧ᴗ** **✧✿)** @flying_grayson

_“Crap, I was going too fast,” said the voice of one Wally West, his phone camera out as a cop walked up to the door._

_“Sir?”_

_“Officer?” It was Dick, arms crossed._

_“You’re under warrant for arrest for theft.”_

_“Theft—wha—what did I steal?” Dick took off his sunglasses and bit his lip._

_“My heart.”_

_It cut to Wayne Manor, with Dick, Kori, Babs, and Wally, all with a glass of wine each.  Dick grinned._

_“And that’s how we met!”_

* * *

 

**Officer Dick (** **✧ᴗ** **✧✿)** @flying_grayson

@nightwing_wonder no fair you had a two for one.

**Nightwing** @nightwing_wonder

@flying_grayson get on my level, officer

Screenshots of the conversation sparked a war in comments sections, quickly making its way to tumblr. 

lyricfrost13

Omg “get on my level, officer” is the new “there’s no need to call me sir, professor” except irl

       animatical-fandoms

       lowkey shipping them

              thatonecomicgirl

              whoops my hand slipped

              [graywing.png] (image of Officer Dick Grayson shoved up against an alley wall by Nightwing)

This, as it happened, was not the end of the crazy at all.  Dick flirted with himself cheekily for a solid week over social media.  Gannon and Amy were very flustered and frustrated that their bet had taken a downturn. 

“Dick, I hate to say this,” Gannon sighed, “But we changed the bet.  Now it’s about whether your ship name as Graywing or Dickwing will trend higher.” 

Dick grinned. 

* * *

Kori, Babs, and Wally all watched on with exasperated amusement. 

“I think one Dick is enough for this world,” Barbara said, “Our relationship is crazy enough.”

“I don’t know—just think how bendy that would get,” Kori said.  She grinned devilishly. 

“No, I think we have enough of that.  Between your strength, Wally’s speed, Dick’s bendiness and my planning, we have a perfect balance.”

“But it would look so pretty, Babs!  Don’t deny the fanart is beautiful!” Wally whined, showing her some definitely NSFW tumblr pages. She frowned, then tapped the screen to zoom in on one. 

“Inaccurate, but nice.  Send me that one?” Barbara asked. 

“Guuuys,” Dick whined, “Are we not going to have dinner?  I was under the impression that this was date night.”

“Apparently, everyone wants you to date yourself, so . . .” Barbara raised her eyebrows.  “Looks like you’ll be on dishes duty for the foreseeable future after that little stunt.”

“I didn’t mean for it to go that far!”

* * *

It was all his own fault, really.  He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for the clusterfuck that was happening on the internet. 

Apparently a picture of Officer Grayson siding with the Red Hood captioned with _Dick Grayson has a Vigilante Kink_ was flooding through tumblr.  Of course, on other sites it was a more moderate version of the same story. 

He, Dick Grayson was being shipped with _everyone._   With Batman—not Bruce, Batman—with Superman, with every single Robin and Batgirl, which _no_ , with the entire Teen Titans lineup at once (which, to be fair, was closer to the truth than the rest of the options.  But _still._ ) 

Now he had options: Let it die into the reaches of tumblr and other fanfictiony sites, or encourage it. 

Never let it be said that Dick wasn’t committed to a gag once he started it. 

He posted selfies of him and heroes he knew that were willing to support his chaos—and tagged them with the ship names.  Fans went ballistic and never seemed to be able to decide on the names they preferred—GrayBat looked good, but there was just something about Superdick. Et cetera. 

* * *

**Nightwing** @nightwing_wonder

@flying_grayson beautiful night for patrol, isn’t it?

**Officer Dick (** **✧ᴗ** **✧✿)** @flying_grayson

@nightwing_wonder sure is.  DM me your location; I think I have something on the case you were talking about.  #graywing #dickwing

**The Official JL Oracle** @oraclegirl

@nightwing_wonder remember you’re going to sleep on the couch if you bring an officer home tonight.  We talked about this.

**Nightwing** @nightwing_wonder

@oraclegirl but he’s so cute! 

**Kid Flash Official** @speedsternumber3

@flying_grayson While we’re talking about this, are you aware that Wing is a taken man?  And that there are not one, not two, but three of us?

**Officer Dick (** **✧ᴗ** **✧✿)** @flying_grayson

@speedsternumber3 omg I’d never be a part of an affair!

**Jason Todd** @yesimback

@flying_grayson things I never, ever thought I’d see in a real sentence.  But you exist, so I should honestly not have expectations at all. 

**Starfire — Titans** @tameraneanstarprincess

@nightwing_wonder please come directly home after patrol.  No side trips.  We talk about things before we let pretty police officers in. #redheadwing #imtellingbatman

* * *

thatonecomicgirl

dammit now I have to accommodate for four heroes and Dick Grayson lord help me that's too much to fit on one page

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so the three tumblrs in the fic are all mine. Shameless self promotion, I know. I made up the twitter handles entirely though, as I barely use my own, so who knows how that works.   
> If you want superhero content/reblogs definitely follow me @thatonecomicgirl.   
> My personal blog is @lyricfrost13 if you want a bit of variety - I post everything from writer memes to supernatural to marvel to harry potter to whatever happens across my dash  
> @anamatical-fandoms is pretty much Disney, Voltron, Miraculous Ladybug, and anime - mostly ML right now 
> 
> I finally wrote some TimKon! Also anyone know what Stephanie was actually going to pursue in the comics? No? Because I've written her as a psych major purely on the basis that she just kind of gets people on a different level than most, at least the way I wrote her. The Harley and Nygma cameos didn't go as planned, so I may spruce them up in the future, but they're there for now. Will there ever actually be conflict in one of my fics? Who knows!
> 
> I'm currently working on the WinterIronShield bang piece that I have going, so updates will be pretty much hiatus-like in their wait times. Hope you enjoyed - see you next update!


	5. Daddy's Little Girl, The Homecoming Date, and Holy Musical -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mar'i's getting older and picking out future careers. Bruce should consider fighting off Damian's suitors with a stick - if it'll do any good - and Kate and Julia have excellent taste in parodies.

* * *

**Dick**

 

“Dad, I want to be a superhero,” Mar’i said, arms crossed. 

“I know, munchkin,” Dick replied. 

How many times had she said that for play time?  How many times did she mean it? 

“You started younger than I am now,” she said.  Yes, by one year—not that it was huge in the grand scheme, but to a thirteen-year-old that made all the difference. 

Well. 

“Yeah, well, Bruce and I aren’t good examples of what you _should_ do, parenting-wise,” he grimaced.  “Mar’i, you’re not me.  You’re not Mom.  You’re you, and we tried to make sure you grew up away from the vigilante stuff for a reason.  Starting in on it so young—it isn’t healthy for your mind.  Or your body for that matter—people get hurt.”

“So, what? I should let others get hurt while I’m safe and sound?” she bit back before sighing. 

“I just—can you and Mom start training me?  Can I train with Uncle Jason, with Grandpa?  Simple stuff.  If I start practicing now, I can make less mistakes—or at least less dangerous ones—in the future.” 

Ugh, why did his kid have to be so _smart?_

“Fine, okay, I give up.  Kori, are you hearing this?”

“I’m hearing sound arguments,” she said from the living room.  “And training is different than being in the field.  Who do we want training her?  I’m vetoing Tim.”  Dick grinned, amused. 

“Why Tim?”

“He’d teach her how to cheat systems and convince her that coffee can replace sleep.  I don’t need her to get unhealthy habits now.”

“Fair—so.  I suggest someone, you two either say yes or no, and we rotate?  If there’s a disagreement we talk?”

“I’m good with that,” Kori joined them at the dining room table.  “You and I are options, of course.  Wally?”

“He’s fine, as long as he stays mostly on task and doesn’t snack in the middle of a sparring session,” Dick said.  “Babs can teach you how to access the right records, since Tim’s right out.”

“ _Yes,_ ” she grinned.  Apparently, Mar’i was having no objections now that she got her way.  She also loved all of the Batgirls, so that was a bonus. 

“I miss Raven.  Think she’d be willing to help with the powers-related training?” mused Kori. 

“I think she’d be fine.  Bruce, Jason?”

“I was about to ask about Jason.  Bruce is only allowed to teach hand-to-hand,” Kori said, “Otherwise he might try to make her a Robin without even realizing it.”

“ . . . yeah, point.  Cass adores her—Steph probably won’t want to do anything but watch movies—”

“Canary?  Maybe Selina?  I think Diana would be good for her when she’s a bit older, too,” Kori said.  “Most of the League are fine, but we can talk about their availability once we get a schedule.  And if you ever suggest Oliver I will knee you in the balls so hard—”

“No problem!  Wasn’t even thinking of it!”  Yeah, as much as Dick had issues with Bruce, the whole Oliver-kicking-Roy-out pretty much meant no.  He wasn’t going to deal with that crap.  There was unhealthy, and then there was toxic. 

* * *

 

Mar'i was a natural.  Dick _hated_ it. 

“Good, now don’t use your flight.  You have to be ready for any situation.  Your whole body is a weapon and a shield, Mar’i—how can you use it?” Bruce asked, spreading his arms wide.  She lowered herself, eyes narrowing. 

“Lian says I have bony elbows.”

“That works,” said Bruce.  Dick would have stepped in to make a joke, but honestly the man was doing well with her.  It was kind of amazing and terrible.  (He’d never called her his “Robin”, no matter how much it would have been wonderful.  His mother’s name for him wasn’t just that anymore.  He was glad for it—Robin meant hope, meant family, meant light.  Mar’i didn’t have to mean anything she didn’t want to mean. 

Training sessions were insanity that Dick couldn’t watch after the first few vetting sessions.  He trusted the people he left her with (Wally was too easily bribed into doing other stuff; he had to be cut from the list) and he knew that the variety of training would give her the edge she needed if she really did want to be a hero. 

Which was amazing and terrible all at once. 

* * *

 

**Damian**

“I have a crush on like three of your family members.  Please stop being related to attractive people,” said Aisha.  Damian spluttered. 

“Honestly same,” Colin said, pointing a fork at him. 

“ _What?_ ”  This was not a conversation he was having.  None of it was real.  _Ugh._  

“You may or may not realize, but the Wayne family has gathered seriously good genetics despite mostly not being related,” she teased. 

“I do not need to hear this,” he said.  “God, who even are you talking about?”

“Dick, Cassandra, and Jason,” Aisha said immediately. 

“Everyone likes Dick,” Damian muttered, “And he likes redheads, apparently.  He’s dating three of them at once.”

“You can’t _not_ make a pun about him, can’t you?” mused Colin, “’Everyone likes Dick?’  Excuse you.”

“And Cain is acceptable.  She’s elegant, I suppose.  But _Todd_ , really?  He’s a disaster.”

“Not a disaster I mind, hon, it’s that jawline,” she grinned. 

“He’s my brother!”

“He’s not mine.”  Her smile was practically devilish.  

“This conversation is a disaster,” Colin muttered, “More than Jason, that’s for sure.”  Damian glanced at him. 

“Well, who are your crushes, then, if I’m going to be scarred for life anyway?”

“ . . . you know what, you’re right, this is dumb,” he said. 

“It’s Dick, isn’t it?” Damian asked. 

“He’s one of them.  Him, Tim, and—him and Tim,” he corrected. 

“There was a third!” Aisha threw a french fry at him.  “What gives, Wilkes?”

“I’m going to go die in a hole now,” he deadpanned. 

“Leave him alone,” Damian said.  “It’s fine, Aisha.”  She blinked and looked between them. 

“Oh.  Nevermind.  Okay, so I’m running out of cards for McGinnis, right—”

* * *

They’d been wandering down the street to get Colin home before Damian left for patrol. 

“Damian, will you go to homecoming with me?” Colin blurted.  Damian blinked.  It took a few seconds for it to process.  Then he remembered the conversation with Aisha. 

“I was the third?”

“You—?  Shut up! Ugh, do you want to go to the dance with me or not?”

“As a friend or as a date?” Damian asked.

“A date.”

He _was_ the third crush. 

. . . _he_ was the third crush.  Oh _no—_

“Right, no, it was dumb, I—”

“Shut up and let me think for two seconds!  I had no idea you liked me!” he spluttered.  Damian hadn’t even _begun_ to think—

“I have no idea if I like guys,” he said firmly.  Before Colin could deflate, however, he continued, “Or girls.  Or anyone, or everyone, or no one.  But I like hanging out with you, so for the dance at least—yes.”  Colin beamed. 

* * *

It was a mistake to say yes, because now Grayson was absolutely insufferable.  Damian should have been rewarded for resisting to use that name pun, because it was becoming increasingly applicable. 

“We’ll have to make sure you two match—are you going with a group of friends— _pictures_ , where do you want to—oh my _god_ Damian, this is so awesome!” he gushed. 

“Be prepared, Mar,” Damian huffed, “Look what you have to look forward to.”  She glanced over her shoulder. 

“And I’m the blood daughter,” she teased. 

“Tt.  You both will never let that go,” he grumbled.  “I don’t even know if this is a date or a friend date yet.  Just let me be.”

* * *

 

**Jason**

“The demon’s going to homecoming?” he asked when Dick had finally stopped for breath.  He nodded vigorously. 

“Good.  Try not to go insane on the planning thing.  Let him be.”

“But _Jay_ , he’s got a date.”

“So do most kids going to that dance—though a lot go just for fun—seriously, tone it down, Big Bird, or you’ll really give the rest of us aneurisms.”  He pouted, but didn’t argue. 

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically. 

* * *

 

**Damian**

And then _Jon_ had the audacity to ask him, too. 

They had been just at the zoo when his friend turned around and asked. 

“Hey, you’ve got homecoming coming up right?  Could I go as your date?”

The _hell_ was going around?  Was it Ivy?  She didn’t know his secret identity, but she could have placed something on him—except she was a lot less hostile with Quinn as her girlfriend. 

“I’ve already said yes to someone else,” he said stiffly.  Jon’s eyes drooped a little. 

“Well—wow, that’s great—okay.”  Ugh. 

“Let me talk to him and see if he’s willing for it to be us three.  It’s Colin—you remember him, right?”  And his eyes lit up again. 

Did _Jon_ of all people—

Did he actually—

Damian shook his head, flustered, and called Colin.  Who was confused at first, but cool with it.  Which, of course, meant now everyone was involved—that all three of them had to coordinate plans, that Jon, now a freshman at Smallville High, had to fly to Wayne manor to get ready for pictures, dinner, then the dance. 

Grayson was having the time of his life helping with that, at least.  Brown had a camera ready.  Colin looked overwhelmed at the sheer number of family members that smiled at him and pushed them all together for pictures. 

His shirt and tie were a bit too warm as he smiled faintly between the two of them. 

* * *

 

Mr. McGinnis welcomed them as one of the chaperones.  The gym was done up in streamers and lights—it looked nice, for all the fact that it was still the gym. 

Aisha crowed accusingly at Colin and Jon. 

“You know his taste in music and you _still_ agreed to date him?”

“They were the ones that asked me,” Damian snapped.  She raised her eyebrows. 

“Huh.  Well, get it, Wilkes.  And—”

“Jon Kent,” he held out his hand like the mild-mannered farm boy he was.  Aisha shook it with an amused grin.

“Kent.  Nice to meet you.  I’m Aisha, and I want all the details about how you and Dames met.”

They glanced at each other. 

“His dad’s a reporter that’s done a lot of work with mine.  We kept crossing paths and fighting, so they stuck us together to work things out, and well, here we are,” Damian explained quickly. 

“Uh-huh,” she pursed her lips.  The music changed, though, and she grinned wildly. 

“That’s my song!  Later!” and dashed into the crowd. 

* * *

“How’s this going to work?  I dance with you first hour, you take a break, then Jon gets you?” Colin asked.  Damian shrugged. 

“I don’t know.  I’ve been rolling with this as we go.”

“How’s about we all just do what we want?  They always play more than one slow song, so we’ll each get our chance,” suggested Jon. 

“Okay,” Colin said immediately, “Dibs on the first thing that isn’t absolutely vomit worthy cheese.”  Jon grinned. 

“Fine by me!”

* * *

 

**Kate**

If she’d known her cousin’s actual parties—not the galas, but the home-family-casual-ones—were like this, she would have made sure to get to know Bruce a lot earlier. 

With Tim off with his boyfriend, Stephanie at work, and Damian at a dance, the adults were home.  It was Bruce and Selina canoodling on the couch, Dick sprawled on the carpet, Jason lounging with a book.  Barbara was nearer to the fireplace—she always got cold hands and feet.  Alfred and his daughter Julia were hovering in the background.  Kate was fiddling with Twitter.  There was wine, complaining, and—

And there was a game going around of _if the Gotham Rogues were us, and we were the Gotham Rogues, which ones would each of us be or what would we be like as a specific one?_

“Okay, just to clarify, Stephanie would only be Harley because she’s decently sensible and fun, not because Steph’s working at Arkham,” Jason pointed out.  “Hell, I _like_ Harley now.  She’s mellowed out a ton with Ivy.”

“But Tim as the Riddler,” offered Dick, “Seriously.”

“Tim as just about any of them would be horrifying,” said Barbara, shaking her head.  “Do you realize how grey that kid’s moral code actually is?  Like, if he went dark, he’d easily beat most of the League _and_ most of us.  Fifty-fifty on Bruce versus Tim.  They’re _scary_ alike when they work.”

“You’re not wrong,” accused Jason, eyes narrowing, “that’s terrifying.  B, let’s never let Timbird go dark.”  Bruce shook his head. 

“Not going to happen,” Dick confirmed.  “In other news, Jonathan Crane and Cass should never, ever switch places, because she’d actually terrify everyone into submission.  Or puppy-dog-eye them into taking fear serum straight up.”

“And now seeing her as Scarecrow is now going to give me nightmares,” Selina said.  “Hey, do I count as a rogue since I was one of the Sirens?  Because I pick me to switch with me.”

“Not anymore,” Bruce said, hugging her shoulder protectively.  _Aw.  No one realizes that he’s secretly the biggest softhearted goofball ever._   It reminded her so well of a little kid with an injured dog, trying to set its leg and carefully put it into the back of the car. 

God, he’d always tried so hard to fix things.  Really, her cousin was always going to be Batman in some sense—he was always going to want to save the world.  She smirked a little to herself. 

“Oswald Cobblepot would make a decent Oracle.  His organization skills are impeccable.”  Barbara narrowed her eyes, huffing. 

“But we all know which one _you_ are,” said Julia, eyes glittering at Kate.  She raised an eyebrow. 

“And who would that be?”

“Sweet Tooth.”  Kate’s eyes widened before she cackled. 

“He’s not even real, Juli,”   

“I’d beg to differ.  He had a beautiful musical number.  Can I be your Candy?” she asked, giggling along.  Dick, Jason, and Bruce looked on in confusion.  Barbara frowned. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You _don’t know_?” gasped Julia.  “This is grade-A amazing material.  Up there with the Lego Batman Movie.  Seriously.”  This of course brought a grin to Dick’s face. 

“Movie night!” he crowed.  “Next on the list!  What’s it called?”

“Holy Musical Batman.  With an ‘at’ symbol instead of a-t in Bat.  Apparently they had to sneak around copyright issues what with the dramatic movies and such coming out—no Joker, either, so they made up Sweet Tooth, a candy-themed villain.  Everything else is just . . . biographical,” Kate grinned.  “We should invite Clark Kent and James Gordon.  They’re in it, if briefly.  Dick, too, though no other Robins.”  Damian was going to _hate_ it.  It was going to be glorious. 

* * *

 

**Damian**

He felt a chill down his spine before he sneezed.   

“You all right, Dames?” asked Jon. 

“Fine,” he said.  “Colin, here comes your dance.”

* * *

 

**Kate**

For the first time since Dick brought up the idea of movie night, she was looking forward to coming. 

“Everyone must be present.  I’m coming,” she announced.  Julia lunged to hug her. 

“Me too!  Now they all have to come!  You too, dad, you have an entire song,” she said.  Alfred didn’t so much as raise a brow. 

“I’ve seen it,” he said mildly.  Kate crowed with laughter. 

“When?  How?  Did you like it?”

“I saw it shortly after it came out.  It was . . . amusing.  Especially considering how low-budget the production must have been, it was very well-made.”

* * *

 

**Damian**

Well, at least one thing was confirmed—Damian definitely was attracted to Jon and Colin in some degrees.  He didn’t want to hurt either of them, though.  Because he wasn’t like Dick—harem jokes aside, Dick needed more than one person in his life to keep him from flying into oblivion. 

Damian just . . . didn’t see the point in that for himself.  Not at his current age, no less—the time for committed relationships could wait. 

He was just about to voice his concerns in the parking lot as they decided who went home how. 

“I’ve got to be honest,” Colin said as he determinedly got on his bike, “I like you, Dames, but more as a friend.  The crush thing?  Yeah, not wrong, definitely still there, but I don’t think I could be your boyfriend long term.  I don’t think I’m built that way, you know?” No, Damian definitely did not know, but still, it was good to be told. 

“Thanks, Colin.  Still friends?” he asked.  He grinned, nodding, before hopping on his bike and speeding away. 

“That leaves just us, huh?” Jon asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“So . . . what do you think?  Wanna be my boyfriend, Wayne?”  Damian snorted. 

“Sure, Kent, as long as you don’t get a big head over it.”

“Me?  Never.  It’s you I’m going to have to worry about.”  Damian blinked. 

“No.  It’s _Dick_ we’re going to have to worry about.  He’ll be insufferable—with Kon and Tim, then you and me— _ugh_.”  Jon’s eyes widened. 

“We need a distraction.”

“Agreed.”  Unfortunately, Jon’s first idea wasn’t helpful, though it was nice enough. 

He leaned in and kissed Damian.  Wrong distraction, but definitely still nice.  He told him so.  Jon laughed, and it was like sunshine in the headlights of Damian’s car. 

* * *

“So, Dad said we were invited to movie night again,” Jon said, “And this time I’ll actually come, so—”  Damian sucked in a breath. 

“The last time he was invited, we watched that _monstrosity_.  No.  This is unacceptable.  I refuse.”

“Come on—Dick will be too busy laughing to notice us.  Then he can pout later when we complain that we’re acting normal and he needs to tone it down.”

Damian considered it. 

“Fine.  But if it has any ridiculous musical numbers—”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, no, the update's great, but I'm not adding anything new until I'm done with my WinterIronShield bang piece (which will be finished around Jan/Feb next year), so I hope you enjoyed this at least a little!   
> The DamiJon was endgame for this chapter, but it isn't ultimate endgame for those two. If you want to know how people react on movie night, well, you can use your imagination or I can actually make a whole bit about it. We'll see. (That bit was inspired by a tumblr art post in which the entire batman movie franchise is in the DC universe so the batfam watched the Lego Batman movie once and Damian was just so offended by its existence. Jason and Tim jammed to DARKNESS NO PARENTS and Dick was just like Thanks, Bat Dad. I needed that and I need more of it, hence my addition)


	6. Announcements Over Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> World-changing announcements? Check. Damian and Jon the leaders of a Young Justice team? Check.

* * *

**Selina**

She stared in the mirror for a good ten minutes, not comprehending.  It wasn’t grief, but she was definitely starting with denial. 

She couldn’t be.  This wasn’t something she’d planned for.  Her age, the complications with her lifestyle.  She’d always stopped any chance of it, and he’d never pushed.  Not something she wan—

Well, that last bit was a lie. 

She wasn’t the type to gush and fawn over it, constantly seeing others and wanting that kind of life.  If she wanted something, she took it—usually.  But she’d never wanted this more than other things—her routine, her health, Bruce. 

She wouldn’t have wanted it before, but now that it was here—was it dread or longing winning out?

Her hand flew to her stomach. 

* * *

She kept it to herself for some time.  Thoughts of her conversation with Damian back before the wedding— _I’m such a hypocrite, huh?_ But it had been a few years since then. 

Ugh.  There were a thousand things that could go wrong.  She could die, the others could make fatal mistakes worrying, they could use it all against their family.  She thought of Harley and her daughter, of Dick with his little girl. She loved teaching Mar’i how to use her strengths on the street.  A younger Selina wouldn’t have wanted it.  She would have dropped it all, ran away. 

Younger Selina hadn’t become a mother already.  She glanced at the family portrait with all of them—from Alfred to Jason to Mar’i to Titus to her. 

 _Family dinner tonight,_ she texted everyone, _I’ve got news._

* * *

**Warren McGinnis**

Damian had become extremely adept at drawing, constantly coming back to inks and pencils.  It reminded him of some of his friends in college, always intense with details and linework. 

“Have you considered making comics, Damian?  Your linework is very clean, and you’ve got representational pieces down to a science.”

“Perhaps,” Damian squinted down at his current piece—a stippled landscape.  An _accurate_ cityscape of Gotham in pointillism.  If there was any student that took ambition and detail into account, it was Damian Wayne. 

“I do have a favor to ask you,” he said.  “My brother’s son just turned two.  He asked me for a recommendation from one of my classes for a commission—just a simple painting from a family picture, if you wouldn’t mind.  I can give you his contact information if you’re interested.  He didn’t want my work because that’s what he did for the first birthday and my Masters coursework is burying me.”  Damian hummed and nodded. 

“Absolutely.  I could do with some experience with commissions if I want to pursue art as a career."  Warren frowned. 

“That’s what you’re thinking?” Immediately he wanted to take back the question—not only was it rather hypocritical, it wasn’t really fair to judge what a young man wanted to do with his life if he already had most of the financial support necessary to live with _no_ job at all. 

“Almost positive.” He smiled wryly.  “My elder siblings have as much stake in Wayne Enterprises as I do—I know it’s not quite what people would expect of me, but I’m sure I’ll have the free time.”

“You do have a love for animals as well—have you thought about scientific illustration?  There are really good programs for that—” he continued to explain some ideas, and Damian listened attentively.  The information would at least make up for his misstep. 

“I think those are definite options for me.  Thank you, Mr. McGinnis.”

He nodded and fished the picture out of his wallet with his brother’s number scrawled on the back. 

“It’ll definitely be the perfect memory for Terry when he’s older.”  Damian’s eyes widened a fraction before he nodded vigorously. 

“I agree.”  He glanced down at his phone.  “Text from Selina.  I’ve got to go.”

* * *

 

**Bruce**

“You’re getting too old for this, Bats,” grumbled Riddler.  He wasn’t even out causing mischief; Steph’s therapies and recent educational endeavors meant that she had managed to get him stable enough to only have appointments at Arkham and have loose parole supervision.  He’d always been at least somewhat sensible, of the rogues he’d faced.  Bruce had actually managed to save him from muggers on this particular patrol. 

Wonders never ceased.  He stopped trying to make sense of things. 

“There’ll always be someone around,” he replied.  “You certainly don’t have to worry about it—you’re older than me.”  Ed raised his eyebrows. 

“Really?”

“By a decent margin,” he said.  “Don’t worry too much about it.  There are contingencies in place.”

“Like Nightwing?” he raised his eyebrows.  Bruce paused.  Ed snorted. 

“Come on, Batman.  I knew that kid when he was in the shorts pretending that he didn’t know how to undo knots.  He does a decent impression.  Hell, most don’t have a clue when he’s in the cowl versus you.  I guarantee you it’s probably just the people that are in on the secret and me—maybe the Joker if he ever spent the time.  I don’t think he would care even if he did find out.”  Bruce grimaced. 

“You’re not wrong.”

“I’m sorry you’re going to have to leave it behind.” 

Bruce’s mouth scrunched up in a grimace like he’d swallowed a lemon. 

“Me, too.  Don’t think I’ll ever really step away, though.”  A ringing noise on his comm—a text from home. 

_Family dinner tonight.  I’ve got news._

“Well, in that case, don’t be a stranger,” he waved. 

* * *

 

**Mar’i**

“Well, the Titans are kind of getting older,” she said, “And I’m not the only kid that needs a team to train with.  You are _well aware_ of this, Dad.  Wasn’t Teen Titans work fun and useful?” she asked.  Dick glanced at Kori helplessly. 

“You have been training for two months, Mar’i.  That’s not a lot of time to do field work.  But Dick could talk to the other League members about putting together a training group, at least,” Kori said.  _Dad’s clearly not about this idea.  Come on._

“Will you, Dad?  I know you don’t want me out in the field, but I _really_ want to do this,” she said.  Kori giggled. 

“Like looking in a mirror, huh, Richard? Except our daughter didn't just sneak out in a costume before Batman decided to actually get her some armor.” she said.  Dick glowered. 

“Fine.  I’ll talk to the League. 

* * *

With the old Young Justice team disbanded and the Titans growing more powerful and a little older, it was clear what the League was doing by dubbing them the new Young Justice. 

“We’ll call it a training program for potential Titans, a mentorship,” said J'onn, who’d offered to train them all.  “I know some of you have been Titans already.  Still I’d like to see you grow as leaders among your peers rather than tagging along with the adults all the time, hm?” Mar’i glanced around at the other kids—some older, some younger.  They were all in civilian clothes, despite the fact that they were at one of the League’s bases. 

Mar’i obviously knew Damian, Lian, and Jon.  The fact that Uncle Roy had even considered letting Lian join mystified her—but then again, she’d managed to convince her own father.  Damian had dragged his friend Colin along, which meant that the other five were utter strangers.  She wondered if anyone would be

“Introduce yourselves,” encouraged Mr. J’onzz, “If you already have a hero alias or affiliations, that’s helpful.  If you don’t, that’s okay, too.  We’re starting from the ground up here.  As I’m sure you’re aware, heroing tends to run in the family—if Barry Allen, Wally West, and Bart Allen are any indication.”  Everyone nodded. 

“Um, on that note?  I’m Irey, and this is Jai—we’re the current Flash, Wally West’s kids.  I’m Impulse, and he’s Velocity.”  One of the older kids who she didn’t recognize was staring around at them in awe.  She guessed he probably was off on his own with his powers since he didn’t seem to recognize anybody. 

“I’m Colin Wilkes.  I’m from Gotham; they call me Abuse.” 

“Whoa, you’re from _Gotham_?  That’s crazy!” said the youngest girl besides Irey, “Like, I’m pretty sure a rando civilian from Gotham would be more qualified for the League than some of the actual members, if the stories I hear are true.”

“Tch,” Damian rolled his eyes, “The rumors might be true to some extent, but I assure you the civilians wouldn’t be qualified.  Gotham people are special in their own right, but they wouldn’t know how to deal with a lot of international and intergalactic League affairs—I should know.  Damian Wayne, otherwise known as Robin.”

“ _Dude_ ,” said the boy that had been staring.  “Robin?  Oh my god, it’s kind of an honor, whoa, I did not— _does that mean Bruce Wayne is Batman?!_ ” he yelped.  Mar’i giggled. 

“Yeah.  Only one guy in Gotham has a chronic adoption addiction, not two,” she said.  Jon outright belly laughed with that one, and Damian glared. 

“Come _on,_ Dames, you know it’s true,” she teased.  “Anyway, I’m Mar’i Grayson, daughter of Nightwing and Starfire.  No hero alias yet because my dad’s super overprotective, but—”

“Nightwing and Stafire.  Like, two of the original Titans,” deadpanned the girl she didn’t know.  Then she muttered very quietly, _“You_ married Elastigirl _?”_

“And got _busaay,”_ Jon muttered back, loud enough for the rest of them to hear. Colin snickered.  “Some of us have super-hearing, FYI.  I’m Jon Kent.  Uh, Superboy.  Son of Superman.  Yeah.”

“Is anyone here _not_ the kid of a superhero? Huh?” asked the confused boy.  “Just me?”

“I mean, I’m the _sister_ of this idiot—”

“Hey!”

“—and he’s the Blue Beetle, but—”

“Milagro, ¡ _Cállate_!”

“I’m Milagro, and he’s Jaime,” she finished.  Mar’i liked her already.  Jaime just groaned in exasperation and shrugged. 

“And I’m, uh, Lian Harper.  Daughter of Arsenal, Red Arrow, the original Speedy—oh, and my mom’s Cheshire.” Everyone who knew nodded encouragingly, while those who didn’t gasped in awe. 

The last kid shifted around, glancing at each of them awkwardly. 

“Well, shit, that’s.  That’s a lot of legacy there.  I’m just a kid from Dakota.  Virgil Hawkins—I go by Static.”  He let a bit of electricity dance between his fingers.  

“ _Epic_ ,” grinned Lian.  “Nice to meet you!”

* * *

Their headquarters were in a cloaked island in Lake Michigan.  It was close enough to certain high-population areas that they could be mission assists quickly, but not in, say, Gotham, Metropolis, or New York, where the major disasters tended to occur. 

“I still can’t believe it,” Virgil muttered, wandering around the lounge like it was a hotel lobby, not touching things. 

“Hey, blame Mar,” Lian grinned, pointing at her.  “Her dad’s really antsy about her ever being a superhero, but she wanted to have Titans to work with like he did.”

“It’s not all on me!  Just—hearing stories about Damian and Jon—” who had conveniently just entered the room, “made me want a chance.  If an eight-year-old can save planets with a ten-year-old, why can’t we all get started on doing some good?”

Damian and Jon flushed.  She smiled triumphantly. 

“Yeah, I think we all kinda feel that way,” Virgil grinned.  “Still, thanks for pushing for it, Mar’i.  We wouldn’t have it without you.”

“And I can finally stop being the runt of every group,” Damian agreed.  Jon snorted. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re still the littlest Bat, Dami.  You can’t escape it.”

“You coming to dinner tonight, Mar?  Apparently, Selina has a big announcement,” Damian asked.  She nodded.

“Yeah, I got the message.  Dad’s picking us both up in the plane to head back.”

* * *

**Jason**

No one was ever going to let him live this down, he just knew it.  Jason Todd, actual youth group leader.  He’d found himself working at local churches, then at schools—leading community projects.  He was helping kids stay out of trouble.  Fourteen-year-old him would be mortified.  Of course, he’d also probably punch fourteen-year-old him in the teeth, given enough time. 

He could picture it now:

_You were a drug lord?! You tried to kill Dad?! What the absolute fuck!_

_Look kid, it was not a healthy decision for B to make you Robin._

_But I love being Robin!_

_Yeah well you grow out of it fast when the Joker kills you_

_Figures I’d be a zombie—see, it wasn’t for nothing!_

Ad nauseum, they’d just go in circles.  He cringed.  _Nope.  If time travel happens again I am dropping mini-me off with either Alfie or Roy and letting them deal with it._

The whole be-a-role-model thing wasn’t a paid gig by far, and neither was the vigilante stuff.  He’d thought long and hard about that, knowing that the Wayne fortune shouldn’t have to pay for him being unemployed when it could be funding charities for years to come. 

Younger him wouldn’t mind this quite as much, once he got past the _no I shouldn’t be an Authority Figure_ moments.  English teacher?  Yeah, maybe it wasn’t glamorous and maybe it was the last thing people would expect of the Red Hood, but Bruce and Alfred had just smiled proudly. 

“Exactly what I would have expected, Master Todd,” Alfred had said with a smile. 

Which, of course, led to his other side project: the book series he was writing.  Never let it be said that he wasn’t a Bat; he, too, could run himself into the ground by multitasking. 

“Commissioner,” he grinned.  Gordon rolled his eyes. 

“Not me.  I’m retired, Todd.  What are you up to?”

“Just checking in.  B’s got day patrol today.  Didn’t know if you heard, but Selina’s inviting everyone over for dinner.  You’re welcome to come, of course.”

“Barbara told me.  After last week with _her_ announcement, I don’t think I can take many more shocks to the heart,” he grumbled.  Jason grinned. 

* * *

Last week, the induction of new officers for the GCPD:

Everyone applauded as Gordon announced his retirement and was recognized for his years of service.  Everyone had cheered and gave him good-natured slaps on the back as he put his bouquet, gag Batman mug, and plaque aside.  The man just smiled and they continued with the ceremony.  He was helping to induct the new officers, shaking their hands as they joined in a line for a photo op. 

“Officer Bellarosa Diaz,” he gestured as she joined them on the stage.  There was a ramp set up for Barbara to join. 

“Officer Barbara Gordon,” he said, choked up.  Rather than roll up the ramp like everyone had expected, she stood up without shaking at all.  She took the steps, eyes on her father as he gaped. 

The whole family had been in the audience, with Bruce, Dick, Wally, Kori, and Mari in the front. 

Her father, shaking, hugged her tightly.  Dick was crying, and the audience was roaring with applause.  Babs grinned, and James was a little too emotional to continue announcing names. 

She’d apparently taken up the option of therapy from Bruce’s boarding school friend, Tony, in secret.  She couldn’t walk some days—she was never going to have the exact same mobility as before, so full time Batgirl duties were in the past.  She’d told them after that she preferred being Oracle all the same, though a few weeks of patrol would be fine on occasion.  She still had to use her wheelchair some days, but others she was fine, especially if she followed her morning therapy routines.  It was still amazing, everyone assured her.  No one looked more proud or smug than James Gordon. 

“Officer Ray Holt,” he continued, trying (and failing) not to be distracted the rest of the night. 

* * *

“So, are you coming?”

“Of course—I just was going to finish packing away my office. 

“Cool.  I was hoping to ask you some questions for this book I’m writing—”

* * *

**Tim**

“This is what I get for being the responsible one,” he grumbled, hanging his coat up before trudging towards the dining room.  Late to family dinner—which, of course, meant he was on cleaning duty in the cave for the next week. 

With his managing Wayne Enterprises and finally getting ahold of all of the Drake family assets (it had taken years to manage, but he’d done it) his life as a businessman wasn’t so bad.  He had finally moved in with Kon in an apartment just outside of Gotham and so the commute wasn’t bad—especially when he could just drop in on the Manor—but he’d been running ragged all day. 

The only excuses for missing family dinners were injury, hostage situations, death, ongoing fights, or world-threatening disasters.  Dick had once been in a bank stickup as his cop identity and _still_ got stuck with cleaning duty. 

So he didn’t even make any excuses as he sat down at the table, everyone already there. 

“Okay, okay, Selina, I’ve _got_ to know,” Steph said, “I was in the middle of a session with Tetch when I got the text.”

“Well, it _is_ big news,” she smiled, “I’m pregnant.”  Everyone was silent, wide-eyed.  Bruce’s jaw had dropped. 

“You’re—really?” Damian asked, blinking, “I’m going to be an older brother?” And that set off the chatter.  _Congratulations!  When did you find out?  Oh, so exciting._

Tim grinned quietly, calculating.  _Okay, so if she found out now, that means that the baby will be born between June and July, depending on the time frame.  She’ll have to stop patrolling after a certain point, so maybe Babs can step in for a bit just to keep the image up—she doesn’t do the cowl anymore, but maybe she’d make an exception.  Then we’ll need someone to be at command center as Oracle—_

“Oh my god, please let it be a girl, there needs to be less testosterone in this house,” Kate said. 

“The level of testosterone wouldn’t change,” Tim replied, amused, “Just the percentage.”

“Fuck you, you know what I meant.”

“And hey, this’ll be Bruce’s first time dealing with an _actual_ pregnancy and the birth of his kid!” said Jason, grinning devilishly.  “Think you’re ready to handle that, B?”

The pallor that overcame Bruce’s face was a definite _no_ , but he sighed. 

“If I can raise all of you, one baby will be fine.  I will be fine.” 

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, B,” Harper grinned.  “Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I said I wasn't going to post anymore until my bang piece was done but then this chapter wrote itself in two days so. Yeah. I finally have some ideas for the future of this fic! Right when I should be working on school stuff and finding a job!  
> Anyway, Selina and Bruce are gonna have a kid, and Damian is gonna have to paint baby Terry, and I am just laughing my ass off about how I can drop 3,000 words of this and yet my bang piece won't let me write more than 500 more words at a time when I attempt the love story bits. Can you feel the salt? I can. Anyway, I made it happen. Selina's pregnant. Damian is no longer the only blood child of Bruce. But hey, he hasn't been for 2 years thanks to Amanda Waller! We'll deal with his feelings on that next chapter for sure, along with some changes for the different Batfam members that we haven't touched on in a while. 
> 
> Update on ages for the characters both for your reference and mine, since there have been a couple of time skips since the first story - as of the homecoming dance, which was only a few weeks before this chapter timeline wise:  
> Alfred Pennyworth: 65   
> Bruce Wayne: 42  
> Barbara Gordon: 33   
> Kate Kane: 32  
> Dick Grayson: 31   
> Jason Todd: 27  
> Cassandra Cain: 26  
> Harper Row: 25  
> Tim Drake: 24   
> Stephanie Brown: 24  
> Duke Thomas: 23  
> Damian Wayne: 17  
> Jon Kent: 15  
> Mar’i Grayson: 13  
> Terry McGinnis: 2  
> Some people appear to be aging faster than others, at least in character (looking at you, Dick-always-in-your-twenties-Grayson) But hey, whatever, it's my story. Also Tim's scheming at the end just makes me think of Batman!Dick and Catwoman!Babs on patrol together, and what a beautiful disaster THAT would be.


	7. Growing Out Of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time trudges on - while Selina is pregnant, Bruce takes some time for her. That means Dick takes on the cowl for a bit, and someone else is in the catsuit. Tim and Kon have a major milestone to grin about. Damian muses about his relationship with Jon and their mission to pet ALL the dogs. Tragedy hits one Boy Wonder hard.

* * *

**Damian**

He thumbed the photo in his hand. 

“What’s that?” his father asked. 

“Mr. McGinnis offered me a commission for his nephew’s second birthday.”

“That’s quite the assignment.  Are you sure you want to take it?”

“It’s Terry,” Damian continued.  Bruce blinked, then cursed. 

“I didn’t even think it would be this early,” he confessed.  “I thought we had more time—”

“I wouldn’t want him to blink out of existence, father.  I think we should just . . . let him live with his family.  Make sure they don’t get killed.  And if he grows up to be Batman—”

“Then that’s what he does,” Bruce said firmly, “And you can, too, if you want.  So can the rest, if it’s what they want.  I guarantee you most of them don’t.”

“It’s what I was created to be,” Damian said, and he felt smaller than he’d ever felt in years. 

“It’s what Talia and Ra’as wanted of you.  And, for a while, it seemed like it’s what you wanted.  But if you don’t anymore, that’s okay.”  Damian’s eyes stung. 

“Yes, well, that won’t be for some time now, will it?”  Bruce hummed. 

“I’m getting old for this, Damian.  And I know Dick would do it full time, but he’d hate it.  It would crush him.”

“But who else?”

“If she wanted it, I think Cassandra would make a better Batman than me,” he said. Which was completely fair, all things considered.  But she definitely had no inclination to be Batman. 

“Perhaps Gotham needs a break from Batman,” Damian said quietly.  “I think we all do.”

“We’ll give it time,” Bruce said, “A less constant presence.  Maybe go back to being an urban legend, a cryptid.  Goodness knows that made stealth missions easier—no one used to expect you to come crashing through their windows.”  Damian laughed. 

“This one time, a girl gave me her entire tray of freshly-baked cookies, not even batting an eye.”

“You would not _believe_ the stories I’ve heard from window-crashing-resilient people.  Dick often gets invited to bed for example.”

“You follow #onlyingotham, don’t you?” he asked accusingly. 

“You recognized it.” Damian nodded. 

“We will never speak of this again.  Stephanie will never let us live it down.”

* * *

 

**Barbara**

She raised her eyebrow. 

“Catwoman.  And you’ve talked to Selina about this?”

“She thinks it’s a perfect idea,” Tim said, “that is, if you’re willing to let me be Oracle for a bit.  I’ve been meaning to take a couple of months off of active duty anyway, you know?”

“Right.  And does Dick know about this?”

“Nope.”

“And you’ve got him as Batman for the next few weeks, too, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Brucie Wayne’s got to schmooze with investors for a few weeks in New York.  This will be perfect.”

“Dick’s going to have a conniption.”

“Yup.”

“You are going to have Cass record every glorious second of it, right?”

“You bet.  Except since it’s for two months, eventually he won’t be surprised by it, so—”

* * *

“Come on, Bats, let’s get a move on,” Barbara said, smirking.  Of course, her suit was very similar to one of Selina’s, but tailored for her body.  Dick’s jaw dropped for a second.  She leaned in with a smile. 

“Let’s go.  This will be fun,” she encouraged before leaping over to the next roof, grateful for the brace Tim built into this particular version of the suit.

* * *

Of course, a few weeks later, Dick was used to the routine, so it became easy to hold onto the ruse that she was, indeed, Catwoman (except with Harley and Ivy who knew Selina far too well).  The next step was Kori, who more than gladly followed him around, but her in a black catsuit seemed to hardly faze him.  So they had to speed their way into step three.

She was at the mansion, drinking coffee.  She pulled up the live feed Cass had on Dick as he swung through the city with Damian. 

“O is at home tonight,” Damian told him, “But she said she found a replacement.  I’m to go with Batgirl once we pass the GCPD station.”

“Right, sure—” and Dick Grayson, who usually landed on his feet like a kitten, stumbled and landed flat on his face. 

Even Damian snorted with laughter. 

Because Wally West was on the roof, dressed as Catwoman—heels and all. 

* * *

Not surprisingly, that patrol did not last long.  Mission: Get Back at Dick for Fanning the Flames of Ship Wars? Completed. 

* * *

Another thing, though, came to her as she’d ran the rooftops with Dick again, feeling all too old and all too young all at once.  _Batgirl and Robin at it again._

No, she decided.  She didn’t want to pick up a mask or cowl again—not unless they needed her.  When she'd become Batgirl, she'd been a kid.  She wouldn't have changed it, but if she hadn't made the decision then, she doubted she would now.  And if she was right, Tim was more than happy as Oracle—he could never really let go of crime fighting, but he definitely deserved to be out of the fire and frying pan, as it were, for a while. 

It would give her a chance to focus on police work, anyway. Maybe she could get the GCPD to continue to be vigilante-friendly and streamline their network.  

* * *

 

**Tim**

It hadn’t been his plan to stay Oracle, but Babs was insistent.  He kind of liked the interconnectedness of it—compiling information, coordinating teams.  It was like all the best parts of being Robin with the Titans.  Plus, it meant he could work both his day _and_ night job from home, which left him a lot more Kon time.  And Kon time was the best time, in his humble opinion. 

“It’s been a long time,” his boyfriend said after a few minutes into their breakfast, “And I still want you all the time.”

“Which is a miracle, considering just how much of a disaster I am,” Tim chuckled. 

“You’re a beautiful disaster, and I want to marry you.” Tim’s entire body jerked as he looked up from his coffee. 

“You _what?_ ”

Kon was kneeling next to him.  He was holding a tiny box. 

“Will you marry me, Tim?”

“What the _fuck?_ ” Tim shrieked. “Yes!”

* * *

Photo posted to **Tim Drake-Wayne Official** @shivermetimbers0356

engaged.jpg

[A picture of them kissing with hands clasped together. Tim’s ring finger has an engagement ring.]

I said yes! @connerkent

**Bruce Wayne** @gothamitesocialite

Congratulations! Though you could have told us in person, Tim. See you both at dinner. 

**Conner Kent(-Drake-Wayne)** @connerkent

…Oh shit. @shivermetimbers0356 should I be worried?

**Stephanie Brown** @basicallythebombsteph

@shivermetimbers0356 I call maid of honor. No takebacks.

* * *

 

**Bruce**

Nine months.  Well, eight months, twenty-two days, and four hours, to be precise.  Selina took it all with elegance and resilience, as usual.  She was wonderful, as usual.  So good at passing things off as normal that he seemed to blink and it was time. 

And then the time dragged on, seconds turning to hours as they took a brisk drive to the hospital.  _For once, it wasn’t the ER they were headed to._

He paced.  A nurse smiled at him indulgingly. 

“For all the children you have, Mr. Wayne, this is clearly your first time in _this_ particular situation,” grinned the nurse.

“Yes, true,” he murmured.  The first child he’d be there for from the beginning.  _Lord, I’d better not screw this one up._  

“It’s making me dizzy watching you stalk back and forth.  Relax, damnit,” Selina said. 

“When have you ever known me to really relax?”

“Point.”  Everyone else was outside, opting out of the entire process.  He’d nearly expected at least one of them to want to stay in.  They had been taking bets, after all, over whether it was a girl or a boy, and they’d normally want to know as soon as possible who would have to clean the Cave for the foreseeable future.  

He’d helped mothers deliver before—in back alleys, in motel bathrooms.  It had always been an emergency, some unpleasant situation gone terribly worse.  This was a hospital.  Things were going according to plan. 

Selina started shouting and squeezing his hand as he stood beside her.  His chest tightened. 

* * *

A choked little wail, and then the baby was set down on her chest. 

“It’s a girl,” the doctor said fondly, stepping away.  A daughter.  Another daughter. 

* * *

“You have a baby sister,” Bruce said, and everyone crowded in, some grumbling already about dusting the giant penny. 

“What’s her name?” asked Kate. 

“Helena Katherine Wayne,” Selina said.  “Who wants to hold her?” Kate looked over at Bruce, stunned.  He smiled back.  

Everyone stepped back, alarmed at the idea of  _baby_. 

“Come on, somebody’s got to hold their sister!” Selina said.  Cautiously, Cass stepped forward. 

“I . . . will hold her.  A little.”

Helena, sleepy, just hummed and snuggled in Cass’s arms. 

“She’s so tiny,” breathed Dick. 

“You’re a father, Dick, you know how small babies are,” said Duke.  He snorted. 

“And Mar’i was premature, so she started even tinier.  Give me a break.  It’s been fourteen years, thank you.”

Eventually, they each got the courage to hold her for a few minutes.  Damian, unsurprisingly, stood back. 

“Come on, Dames,” chided Dick.  “At least come up close and say hi.  If you put your finger against her hand, she’ll grab it.”

Damian’s eyes looked familiar in that moment—an awful lot like Bruce’s in the bathroom mirror some hours ago while Selina was still in labor. 

Terrified of breaking her. 

“It’s all right,” Bruce assured.  “Damian, do you want to hold her?”

Damian had clearly been paying attention to the rest of them, because he reached out his arms in just the right way, supporting her head. He brushed his thumb against her knuckles and she grasped immediately. 

“Hello, Helena,” he said quietly.

* * *

 

**Damian**

He grinned, diving forward.  “How about _that_ , Superboy?”

“Hmph, well I guarantee you I’ll get the next one.  I have the high ground after all, and I can spot them a mile awa— _there!_ ” he shouted, and flew bullet-fast to his target.  Damian cursed. 

“Can I pet your dog?” he asked quickly. 

“Of course!” the guy said, grinning, “He’s a sweetheart.  I overheard from my friend Casey that you and Robin are having some sort of contest?”  Jon grinned wildly.

“We need to pet every dog in the world.  Then we’ll move on to every dog in the galaxy.  We gotta.”

“Galaxy?  Are there dogs outside this world, dude?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a Kryptonian dog myself.  There’s lots of planets with similar creatures.  We gotta pet ‘em.”  The guy raised an eyebrow, but laughed. 

“You’re right, my man.  Hey, Robin, I see you over there, come on.”

Damian huffed, but crouched to pet the dog. 

“What’s her name?”

“Stella—see the white markings?”  Damian nodded. 

“That’s a good name for her.  She’s very calm.”

“Yeah, I got her off the street—she’s used to all sorts of strangers.”

* * *

“Have you thought about life after Superboy yet?” Damian asked. They were on a roof, eating ice cream.  

“Nah, it hasn’t really hit me.  I mean, with the Titans, I’m glad to be a leader and stuff, I guess—I just have to come up with something new on my own, you know?  My family’s not quite as big as yours.  Can’t exactly come up with something ‘super’ that isn’t taken or dumb.”  Damian scoffed. 

“I’m not becoming Red Robin.  That was a ridiculous idea and both Hood and Red should have known better.”

Jon laughed. 

“Y’know, I was kinda scared—I mean, I talked with Kon about it.  He ended up sticking with Kon-El, but that doesn’t work with me.  I’m too social for it—people would recognize a super-person named Jon like, right away.”

“No one’s recognized Martian Manhunter.”

“Yeah, but it’s J’onn, and despite mangling of pronunciations everywhere, it’s still pretty clear he’s not human when he’s all green.  I don’t care what Dad says, our disguise is _glasses_ , Robin.”

“Father does have a pretty funny story about that—how one year your dad dressed as Superman for a Halloween costume contest—”

“Oh _Rao_ , Robin, _stop._ ” Jon was belly laughing at this point.  “No, Dad was so proud of that, you have no idea.  And then your dad showed up to a masquerade ball with that dumb steampunk bat suit and no one got it.”

“Superboy!” someone squealed from the park nearby.  “Robin!  Oh, could we get a selfie real quick?”

“Sure,” Jon grinned.  Damian rolled his eyes.  By now Jon had definitely gained a reckless kind of grin.  Sometimes it still annoyed him just how free and easy Jon seemed to give his heart to him—how careless, sometimes. 

But it wasn’t careless at all.  It was just that Jon was that trusting of Damian.  He remembered their first major fight—

_I’m not sorry that I prioritized caring about you as a person over the mission!_

_Lives were at stake, and mine wasn’t one of them.  I was handling it—_

_Yeah, you had Scarecrow gas in you and you weren’t compromised, right._

_It was a low dosage!  I was only mildly agitated.  I know my own mind and body, Jon._

_Just because you know didn’t mean I could!  I’m not an empath or telepath!_

_Which is why you should fucking trust me!_

_Yeah, well, sometimes that’s hard to do._

Of course, that had been right in front of their team.  Which they were taking back to the base after a mission that ended up being somewhat more than they could handle.  Damian had bitten his tongue and stalked off before he could say anything else.  Like _I guess that’s fair, being a bat and all,_ or even worse, _I thought you did._

_That was the dumbest fight, Mar’i had said.  He was worried about you._

_Yeah, well, he certainly didn’t trust me to have his and your backs.  I’ll be in the infirmary; everyone check in before you go to bed tonight.  I need to check this fear gas formula._

He spent the next few hours doing just that.  Everyone except Jon had come in, checked minor bruising and in Jaime’s case, a dislocated thumb. 

_That’s rough, man, he’d said.  Supes is just scared, too.  If I didn’t know better I’d say he’s the one who got dosed.  It’s hard for him, being the one that can’t get hurt.  We’re all a lot more physically vulnerable. And this is the first mission that went completely sideways, right?  Don’t get me wrong, he didn’t say anything right there, it’s not cool not to trust you.  But he’s shaken up, man.  Talk it out._

_When did you become the mature one?_

_When I had a little sister to take care of on this team._

And Damian had sighed, gotten up, and searched for Jon.  Jon, who was crying, curled around Krypto in his room. 

_It was a shitty thing to say, Jon, but I get it.  I have a history of overestimating myself._

_No, no, you don’t.  Not for a long time.  I was just so angry, Dames, you’re so brave and I’m just--ugh.  I did not inherit any sort of reporter genes to make myself good with words, that’s for sure._

_Yeah, I don’t think you’d cut it at the Daily Planet.  Let’s talk?_

_Okay._

They’d made up, of course.  Damian would have hated to lose Jon in his life—friend, boyfriend, or otherwise.  He’d said as much.

Jon agreed, of course.  Cuddling around the super dog, they had talked for hours—about dumb video games, about life stuff, about school, about Superboy and Robin, about what they’d do if they broke up.  It was a thousand heavy and light subjects, but it had just been easy talk. 

And that was when they’d agreed to make it a mission to pet every dog ever, because apparently dogs were good for their relationship.  It had been the dumbest thing, but here they were.  Jon called them “doggo hunts”.  Damian just watched his boyfriend make a fool of himself for no particular reason. 

It was exhausting, but the good kind. 

* * *

 

**Dick**

_Even a month after her birth, crime waits for no man._

“Come on, old man, it’s been forever since we’ve patrolled together,” grinned Dick. “Kate’s got the rest of them covered.  Al and Selina are fine with Helena, and you know Damian adores her.  I know you’ve got a case.  Let’s go, old chum.”  Bruce chuckled and shook his head. 

“I still say I never called you that.  Suit up.”

* * *

Dick laughed. 

“That’s the problem with Napkin Man, he just doesn’t—”

_BANG._

* * *

 

**Barbara**

“He’s alone in this one.  Completely alone.”

“No, he’s not,” she said calmly.  “He’s not alone.  We are in a four-person committed relationship.  If you think for a second that we’re not as valid as a group than if I came in as his sole girlfriend—”

“No, ma’am, that’s not what I was implying,” said the harried doctor.  “When I said, he’s alone in there, I did not mean that you weren’t allowed. I meant that if you walked in, he would not have a clue as to who you are.  Who any of you are.  When we asked him basic questions, he couldn’t answer them.  He could answer procedural things, simple facts, but there’s no episodic memory at all.  From his perspective, he’s alone in the world.  We’re working through how it’s possible, but given, ah, the circumstances—” Yes.  The circumstances—Batman had hurriedly rushed Dick to the hospital, and had glared the staff into submission regarding the fact that their patient was a vigilante. 

“—he likely has had enough blunt trauma and alien-induced injuries that his brain is an anomaly.   We really don’t know if he will recover his memories or not—but functionally, he’s coherent.  It’s just that, despite the fact that you all know him, he does not know you.”

Wally grimaced, and Kory glared. 

“You think that will make him need the people that care about him less, Doctor?” she said carefully.  She winced. 

“No, ma’am,” she said.  “Just—nature and nurture are things we don’t understand still.  He may not be the man you know.  He may never be again.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t learn to know him as he is,” Barbara countered.  “I do appreciate the concern, but I believe we are all adults, doctor, and we can see for ourselves if that will change things.  Now, is he stable enough for visitors?”

“Yes.”

* * *

“Hey,” Barbara said quietly, “the doctors said you were stable enough to have visitors.  Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled.  It wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t happy either—more of an _it’s too goddamn early_ kind of grumble. 

“Right, says the man who got shot clear through the head,” Wally muttered.  “We were worried you wouldn’t make it.” 

“Care to fill me in?  I don’t suppose one of you was the shooter come to finish the job?” he smiled wryly.  Wally’s eyes widened. 

“No, of course not—we’re—”

“Your name is Richard Grayson, but you go by Dick.  You still let me call you Richard, though,” Kory began.  “I’m Kori.  This is Barbara.  This is Wally.  We’re all in a relationship together, mostly brought on by the fact that you’ve loved us all so fiercely that it was hard for just one person to take.  We’ve been together for a few years now.  You and I have a fourteen-year-old daughter, Mar’i, named after your late mother.”  Dick blinked.

“That’s—a lot.”

“Right, well, I’ve always been fairly blunt.  She’s asleep at home with her aunts for now,” she said.  He squinted at each of them, studying them. 

“ . . .  Barbara?”

“You always called me Babs.  We go way back.  But you can call us whatever you’d like, if it makes you more comfortable.  You see, Dick, we love you very much,” she said. The man on the bed scowled. 

“Really?  I can put pieces together.  I’m scarred up everywhere, Babs.  I got shot through the head—what kind of a person gathers up all these injuries and lives?  Whatever you know about me, either I’m not a good person and you put up with it, or you just don’t know me as well as you think.  On top of that—I can’t _remember_ anything.  I’m a stranger.  How can you love a blank slate?”

Barbara glanced at Kori, who seemed at a loss for words. 

“Look,” Wally interrupted.  “If I know _anything_ about you—blank slate or no—it’s that you try too hard to be what people need you to be.  You’re trying to be this stranger so you won’t be a burden.  You don’t want to hurt us like that.”  The speedster ran a hand through his hair. 

“Dick—whatever’s running through your head?  You’re not a blank slate.  Sure, there’s a lot missing, but you’re a whole human person, man.  The fact that you’re asking these questions—the fact that you’re trying to do this to yourself—ugh.  I’m not good with words.  I never was.”

“No, Wally, keep going,” encouraged Kori.  He glanced at her and sighed. 

“Dick, I love you.  That doesn’t change.  If other things do?  That’s okay.  We’ve known each other since I was your daughter’s age.  We’ve already changed a lot, the both of us.  Right now, what matters is that you recover from _getting shot in the head_.”  Dick grinned at that. 

“I’ll be able to use that as an excuse now.  ‘Oh, you were supposed to do the dishes?’ Really? I’m an amnesiac, I got shot in the head, how could I ever remember?”

“Ugh, it’s as bad as Jason,” Kori muttered, even as she grinned fondly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool, we're here now! Apparently the only time I get around to writing this fic is when I'm working on other stuff, so I guess I'll still update as I get ideas. It's definitely a good break from my WinterIronShield Bang fic - way less serious and constructed.   
> Let's see - yeah, I cackled deviously as I pictured Dick's partners showing up as Catwoman one by one, and him just totally baffled because on one hand he's Batman and needs to be somewhat serious but on the other: Wally in a catsuit. So. 
> 
> Okay, seriously, I have to say follow @uncharted_constellations on tumblr and insta because they are a delight with a ton of glittery DC heroes and - let's just say I now pretty much envision these fics to have everyone in those outfits specifically. Who cares about impracticality; the robins are all living traffic lights, they can roll in sparkles, too. They also inspired the doggo thing with Jon and Damian, so yeah. (Remember how I said it would be endgame Mar'i/Damian? Yeah, I'm rethinking that. It might be endgame poly with Damian in the middle and Mar'i and Jon being really good friends. We'll see how it develops tho.)
> 
> Ugh, remember how this fic was sparked by Batcat wedding salt? I added more salt. It has to do with my boy Dick Grayson. Like, I'm totally for changing things up and rocking our world, and sure, I'll keep him getting amnesia, whatever, even changing his personality a bit (temporarily because we cannot be having this for forever) but there's just something off about how DC is doing it. I don't read the comics regularly, but hell, from what I've seen? There's just something wrong with how it's working out. IDK. I'm keeping the gunshot, but Dick would not just be left to his own devices by his family, no way. He doesn't have to heal perfectly, but dammit if I'm going to just let him and the people around him suffer for no good reason other than shock value.


	8. Night and Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Dick not exactly up to being Nightwing, someone has to step in to defend Bludhaven.

* * *

**Stephanie**

“We can’t leave Bludhaven alone,” said Tim.  “Nightwing is a known figure in both cities.  He’s gone missing plenty of times, but we don’t know how long Dick will be out of commission.”

“You’re not wrong,” said Dick, shrugging.  Physical therapy had been a quick affair, and he was functionally fine, but his memories had not returned.  Mar’i had been the next person to see him, not letting him go. 

He stared at her in awe as she sobbed into his chest _I was so worried, X’hal don’t do that to me Dad, I thought you would be dead,_ and he could only reply _I’m here, I’m here_. 

This Dick was perfectly capable of taking any of them down in a fight, but he shook his head at the idea of being a vigilante, or even going back to being a police officer. 

“I contacted Lieutenant Svoboda and my superiors—they were pretty understanding about the whole thing,” he said.  “Though I get that Nightwing is important to a lot of people, I figured they ought to be informed about Detective Grayson, huh?”

“You’re right.  The media will eat this up if Vicki Vale gets her hands on this, though,” said Tim, “Eliza’s been through enough.”

“Just tell reporters, ‘no comment’, no matter what,” Jason said, “Eventually they give up.  It took a month or two for people to just give up on me being alive again.”

“Back to the Nightwing issue,” Dick said, frowning seriously.  “Does it matter whether they think it’s me, or just _a_ Nightwing?”

“I mean, when Batman disappeared originally, you tried to keep it under wraps, but now whenever you take over it’s pretty much obvious that you’re different Bat-men,” Steph said.  And it was true—Dick was a good Batman, but definitely let it be known that there were two of them once Bruce had returned. 

“Why do you ask?” asked Bruce.  Dick was silent for a few moments. 

“Because I have two people in mind, based off of what you told me.  And old me had the same idea, apparently, because after I looked through things, well . . . I probably had some sort of bonding moment or milestone I was waiting for, because I found two Nightwing suits that definitely wouldn’t fit me.  And I think I know who they were for, just in case.”

“Two Nightwings?”

“I mean, we technically have two Superboys, for all Kon just goes by his own name.  As for field names, if they’re working together, they could just split the name to differentiate,” Barbara mused.  “Who were you thinking?”

“Damian and Stephanie.” 

Stephanie blinked. 

“Seriously?  I mean, Damian, absolutely, that makes sense—”

“Me?  Even though you don’t have a clue why you chose me?” Damian said, and oh.  Oh. 

Her psychology degree never turned off, apparently, because rapid fire connections were being made. 

Damian had always, always been defined by his parents, by other people.  He was the heir to the League of Shadows, told he would take on the mantle of Batman.  He took on Robin, and Stephanie _knew_ what that did to a person, for all she said she was just a stand-in. 

That’s probably why Dick had hesitated before he lost his memory.  Probably why he had them both in mind—though she would not have picked herself as the second one.  By splitting Nightwing, they’d each take on their own version of it—and if there was one thing Dick understood now, it was being a blank slate, starting something new. 

“I don’t know why I did before, but I know why I am now,” Dick said firmly.  “I’ve watched videos, I’ve studied myself.  You each have elements of what I think Nightwing is—freedom.  And you two know what that means, from the choices you get to make to the consequences you face.  It makes sense.”

Well, if Amnesiac Dick agreed with Not Amnesiac Dick on this, what could she say?

“Cass, looks like you might be short a Batgirl some nights,” she said.  “What about you, Damian?”

He sighed. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

* * *

Obviously, once they’d all gone separate ways, she followed Damian. 

“What do you want?” he snapped. 

“I want to know what you’re thinking.  Dick made a decision without talking to us about it, probably was going to throw the suits out if we said no or if there wasn’t a good time and never say a word.  Because he’s Dick who cares too much and he’s a Bat and doesn’t do emotions like a normal human.  So what are you thinking?”

“I think that you’d make a great Nightwing, and I feel like everything is moving so _fast_ around me.  I feel like I barely got the hang of this Robin thing, this—and now I’m not.  And I don’t know where to go after that.  I’m pretty old to be Robin.  And sure, Nightwing—I can’t say I _haven’t_ thought about what I’d do.  I wasn’t going to be Red Robin or Red Hood, and I was hardly going to go somewhere other than Gotham.  But—” he hesitated. 

“I don’t think I’m _good_ enough to be Nightwing.”  She blinked.  She’d never heard Damian say anything like that—he was always specific about people’s failings, including his own.  _I’m slower than Cain.  I have less competence with hacking than Drake, but about the same as Todd._  

“Good enough?”

“You are, that much is clear.  You make _sense_ as Nightwing.  But—ugh.  Grayson is sentimental enough, I suppose, to overlook my failings.” She snorted. 

“He literally cannot be sentimental.  He doesn’t _remember_ anything to have sentiments about.  You make a lot more sense than me as Nightwing—you’re literally his Robin.  He’s helped you grow so much—if he weren’t so adamant about the Robin sibling thing, I’d say he’s like another father figure to you.  And now that he has an objective view, he still thinks you deserve it.  Why wouldn’t he pass it down to you?”  He looked stunned. 

“I thought—”  And she recognized that look—it was frustration.  Shame. 

“You’re good, Damian.  Don’t you see that?  Presented with the choice, you choose good.”

“That doesn’t change my past, Brown.”

“And we don’t love you any less for it,” she said.  Stephanie sighed, crossing her arms. 

“Have those kids been bullying you again, or is this something you’ve been telling yourself?”

“Those kids now live in fear of Talia al Ghul, Selina Kyle, and Bruce Wayne coming in the night with disapproving glares.  This isn’t some _thing_ —this is fact.  I’m not whatever Dick thinks Nightwing should be.”

“Damian, take it from the stand-in Robin—”

“You are more than a stand-in, Stephanie.”  She paused at the use of her first name. 

“Thank you?—I meant to be, anyway.  You do not have to think you’re good enough all the time, but you have to _choose_ it.  You have to decide to be good enough.  Neither of us will ever be Dick— _he_ might never be same old Dick again, and I’m fully aware of that, and mostly okay with it.  But between the two of us?” she grinned.  “I don’t think I’m good enough either.  I know you are, and you say I am, so I think between the two of us we’ll make a good Nightwing.  What do you think?”

He smirked wryly. 

“I think I get night shifts, and you get day shifts since Arkham keeps you working with the more nocturnal patients.”

* * *

 

**Damian**

Babies and children in general were hard to paint, but the craziness of Grayson’s emergency and the subsequent meetings meant that he had to have something to take his mind off of it.  Mr. McGinnis had commissioned him, and though his teacher had told him that it was fine if he didn’t get it done in time, he’d gotten it done early. 

“This is amazing,” Mr. McGinnis had said, “And this is gouache?  You’ve really got a great sense when it comes to painting, Damian.” 

“I was thinking of doing a community piece like you suggested, but I’m not sure exactly how I’ll orchestrate it.  Could you help me figure out the details?” Mr. McGinnis smiled. 

“Tell me about it.”

* * *

 

**Lex Luthor**

“I understand you want my company, Ms. Head, but I’m afraid that it just isn’t a possibility.  I am more than capable—”

“I don’t believe you realize my intentions, Mr. Luthor,” said the woman across from him.  She was smirking. 

“I am not here to take your company from you.  I am here to take a portion of it, yes—that is essentially what an investor does.  But you are correct in thinking that you will no longer be in charge.  I understand your sister has a lot of shares, and that, should something unfortunate happen to you or should you make grievous decisions, she will have your share.  No, Mr. Luthor.  I do not want your company.  I want you as an employee in mine, once I get the chance.  Do you see?  You are . . . competent, ruthless where you need to be.  But you misdirect your rage.  You don’t see what details behind the scenes must be manipulated.”

“I don’t appreciate this criticism, Ms. Head, when I still will not be giving over my company.”

“That sounds a lot like what my father said to me about his own acquisitions,” she smiled serenely.  “I own everything he once had, and then some.  Now, are you willing to at least consider ceding CADMUS and some of LexEl and Luthor Technologies.  You weren’t going to keep on after the clone sided with the alien, anyway.”  His eyes narrowed. 

“I don’t know what you’re implying, Ms. Head.  Clones?”

“You know exactly what I’m implying, Mr. Luthor.  I keep an eye on my son and who he associates with, and occasionally Kon-El babysits.  Interesting, that he kept a Kryptonian name.  You did try to bring him into your fold.  At that, we have both failed.”

Lex’s frown deepened, but he said nothing.  Talia continued. 

“What I’m asking will be beneficial for the both of us.  Your sister is going to discover the correct data to take you down.  She will do so, and then she will _give_ me what I want because it’s messy and dark and quite terrible to think of.  And I will be free of being dependent on my father’s assets and allies.  What I’m offering for you is the ability to still have work when it’s over.  Make your choice.”

Luthor continued to scowl, considering her fierce expression. 

“What position are you offering?”

She smiled. 

* * *

 

**Jason**

“You want me to _what_ now?” he asked. 

“I want you to consider joining the League.  The arrangement with Nightwing and the Titans worked well, and Koriand’r has experience with how it works—the Outlaws could come to a similar arrangement.”

“Clark, have I ever told you that you are batfuck insane?”  Clark only smirked back. 

“Not nearly as often as I imagine you’ve been told the same.”

Jason groaned. 

“No.  Just, no.  The League is sanctioned, they have rules—the Outlaws are literally their antithesis because we have to go outside the law to get work done.  Why are you asking me, anyway?”

“Because you’re the leader, no matter the members of the team, and I think you could do well.”  Jason could not believe this.  Not in the slightest. 

“I also wanted to offer because the League _is_ about working outside of the rules.  We are a separate entity, though we are sanctioned and cooperate in order to keep people safe.  We can’t be judge, jury, and executioner, but we _can_ make independent decisions.  There’s always a balance.  And with League affiliation, you’d get a lot more contacts and support for different missions.  It’s one thing to have Bruce on your side, sure, but—well, I’m sure a little more support can’t hurt.”  Jason snorted. 

“You mean having people to go to when I’m mad at Bruce and won’t ask him for help?”

“Or Roy with Ollie, or Bizarro with me, or Artemis with Diana—I know we all don’t necessarily get along,” he said wryly, “Not all the time.  That’s a bit too much.  But I know you, Jay, and I think you ought to consider it.”

“Will my decision affect my team as a whole?”

“No—I wanted to talk to you first.  If you all say yes, we’ll talk about how that works then at the next meeting.  If you say no, they can all individually say yes with no consequences.”

“And you’d be all right with Biz around?” Jason raised an eyebrow.  Clark grimaced. 

“I don’t have a good history with treating clones of me very well, do I?  I’ll always regret how I treated Conner.  If Bizarro wants to talk with me, he’s welcome to.  I get the feeling he wouldn’t really want to, though,” he said. 

Jason sighed. 

“It’s insanity, Supes.  I—I definitely don’t see anything wrong with the support, but I think I’d have to know the restrictions we’d get put on us before talking about it being a team thing.  If little to nothing changes, or if we can make decent compromises, we’ll see.”

Clark grinned. 

* * *

_Insane._   He could hardly believe this was happening.  He felt like a cross between a kid at the grown-ups table and the boyfriend that should not have been brought home to meet the parents. 

Artemis, Bizarro, Roy, and Kori were all at his side, and Oliver Queen was being a dick, so at least _that_ was normal. 

“We can’t afford a rogue team like this,” Oliver said.  “I frankly don’t care what you do in Gotham with your rogues, Wayne, but this is taking it too damn far.  Forgiveness, alliances, whatever, but bringing them into the fold?”

“Shut your mouth, Oliver,” said Dinah suddenly, “Or I will gladly shut it for you.  In a very bloody, not-fun way.”

The man wasn’t entirely stupid, it seemed. 

“Right.  Much like the Titans, the Outlaws will always have a League contact of interest.  Depending on the mission, it may shift—for example, a Green Lantern would be far more valuable for a space mission, but Constantine would be more helpful with magic.  Your default can be determined at a later date; I suggest you all decide yourselves.  I also suggest taking on new members when possible.”  Bruce was smiling, which was pretty Twilight-Zone kind of stuff. 

“I believe Kyle Rayner was interested,” said John Steward, crossing his arms.  “The kid likes you all well enough.  I think it’s worth a try.”

“Sounds find to me—what about you all?” Jason said.  The rest of the team nodded. 

“Excellent.  With the pending addition of Kyle Rayner, welcome to the Justice League, Outlaws,” said Wonder Woman. 

Hells yeah, he was on a team with _Wonder Woman._

* * *

 

**Damian**

“Good evening, Svoboda,” he said. This was _weird._ She pointed a finger at him, frowning. 

“I already met a new Nightwing today.  Who are you?”

“Also Nightwing,” he grinned.  All right, so maybe teaming up with Stephanie wasn’t such a bad time. 

“Another?  Isn’t that a bit excessive?  Almost as many Nightwings as Supers, if you keep going,” she grumbled. 

“Nah, it’s just going to be her and I.  Blue is out of commission for now.  I look enough like him that I could probably fool the people that don’t interact directly with him on a regular basis, but that wasn’t going to be an option with you.  I just wanted to check in and let you know.”  She huffed. 

“And what do I call you two?  Thing One and Thing Two?  Purple and Green?”

“Night and Wing, if it’s all the same,” he smirked.  “I’m Night, since I get the night shift.” 

“So really, nothing’s changed—you’re all a bunch of jackasses,” she muttered.  He laughed. 

“I won’t argue that.  Anyway, I’m off—”

“Night,” she cut in.  “Is he okay?  Blue?”  Damian sighed. 

“He’s—alive.  And with the rest of us.  All the other stuff will sort itself out.”  Either Dick would remember or he wouldn’t.  Either they’d get to know this new person, and he’d be their new brother, or Dick would remember and they’d get him back.  It sucked, but Damian wasn’t exactly able to change anything, so there was no point in getting angry. 

It didn’t mean he didn’t still miss him. 

* * *

“You want to _what?_ ” asked Mr. McGinnis.

“I want to do portraits of superheroes for their facilities.  Maybe landscapes of home planets for the alien members as well.  I’ve seen the press conferences—even visited a few times when Father had to talk with people about funding.  But I want it to mostly be a surprise, so I’ll need to speak with some League-adjacent members on how to go about it so no one knows it’s me.  Heroes—well, they deserve a bit of permanent recognition, don’t they?” Damian asked.  “Even former League members deserve a memorial.  Don’t you think?”  Mr. McGinnis raised his eyebrows. 

“This is a large undertaking.  Who do you think you can contact about installing these portraits?  How do you plan to get likenesses of all the heroes you’re doing?  This is a huge endeavor, Damian.  You may have to do it in parts, considering the extensions of the League are massive.”

Damian sighed.  “The main thing is that I want to do it anonymously—I just—if they know it’s ‘Damian Wayne’ doing it, they might think less of what it means.  The son of their benefactor?  Or a stranger?”

“A secret identity,” he replied, shaking his head.  He smiled. 

“How do you want to start?”

“The newest members are from the Outlaws—I’ll start with them, then work my way through teams that are League-adjacent first.  Then, I’ll work on new league members and those that follow one moniker—like the Lanterns, all in a row.”

“That’s going to be a _lot_ of green paint.”

“I know,” Damian deadpanned.  “Especially considering the ones from Earth might ask for paintings of their comrades from other planets.  That’s like painting a whole army.” 

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked. 

“Positive.  I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened to Grayson?” he asked.  “It . . . reminded me that some things aren’t permanent.  I can’t trust that everything will be the same tomorrow.  And—if that’s true for me, what about the League?  How many people could they lose, how easily can things change?  So I want to do this.”

Mr. McGinnis shook his head. 

“That’s very noble of you, Damian.  I’m sure Dick is proud.”  Damian refrained from mentioning that Dick was Nightwing, so he didn’t know, but only just.  Dick wasn’t Nightwing, at least not now. 

That was him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really transitional chapter, heavily reliant on [uncharted-constellations](https://uncharted-constellations.tumblr.com/) ideas for Steph and Damian as Nightwing and a few of my own headcanons regarding that scenario. The whole "Outlaws with the League" thing will maybe be important if I can muster up a plot, but we'll see. Talia is being a sneaky snake when it comes to dealing with Lex - her plan is so secret I don't even know what it is quite yet - and as for the portrait thing? Something in the back of my head has been planning this for a loooong time. :)  
> Has anyone seen Jason in Titans and Young Justice btw? Because I'm dying with them being a thing and cannot handle DC playing me like this  
> My bang fic is nearly done and will be posted sometime at the beginning of February - hopefully I will have more energy to come up with ideas for this fic once that's done, but I'm actually in my final semester of undergrad, so like, I'm probably going to still be sporadic as heck


	9. Introducing . . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harper purposefully gets Cullen starstruck, and an alternate dimension traveler shows up.

* * *

**Talia**

Ra’as was dead, and she was in charge of the League.  Having an official front for her activities would make life easier.  Luthor had been easy to convince—she only had to be careful in dealing with his sister.  She was far more dangerous, _and_ she was allied with Supergirl. 

It would be difficult to hide the worst of her movements from the scrutiny of Lena Luthor, but it would not be impossible. She probably saw Talia’s willingness to employ Lex as one of her board members as a sign of goodwill, but really, it just made the other board directors less uneasy with the changes she made. 

After all, her warriors weren’t exactly known for their business savvy.  To remedy that, she had them go undercover as interns and other positions so they could learn on the job.  Easier to take over a company branch when you know how it’s run. 

LexCorp would be quite the competitor to Wayne Enterprises, after all. 

* * *

 

**Duke**

“You can’t tense up that much,” said Roy, flapping his hand at them dismissively.  “You’ll never have enough range of motion that way.  Your muscles might stretch like rubber bands, but you don’t want them to snap.”

Luke took a slow breath and then went through the sequence again, a bit looser.  Harper continued to block each blow.  Duke nodded to himself, watching the two spar. 

Freaking Arsenal and Cyborg were training them.  It was one thing to have the Batman—hell, he trained every hero ever to some degree, it seemed—but then apparently, thanks to Mar’i wanting training, Bruce got it in his head to diversify.  (One man could _not_ be the expert at everything, no matter how hard he tried.)

Which was just as well, seeing as Duke was now learning how to mess with complicated tech hardware from a guy who was part robot.

Harper’s phone rang. 

_I don’t REALLY wanna DO THE work today, I don’t rea-lly wannadothework today—_

“That’s Cullen; gotta take this,” she said, immediately backing out of the ring and picking up.  Duke chuckled at the choice of ringtones—he had that as his alarm.  Luke stretched and joined them at the computer while Harper talked to her brother. 

“Hey bro, I got a minute.  Yeah?—the _hell_ , no, no, I’m taking care of those dumbasses, you just hang on—I’m coming now. Bye.”

Everyone straightened. 

“What’s up?” asked Roy. 

“Dumbass stalkers messing with Cullen again.  They creep around our apartment complex, but since one of their aunts lives there, _technically_ they can be there.  They go away whenever they see I’m there, because, you know, adult human with crazy hair and a shotgun, but they aren’t a fan of him.  I guess he got one of their sons in trouble for being a homophobic bigot, so they have to defend their not-honor.”

Duke scowled. 

“I’ll come with you,” he said, “Maybe a little extra oomph will set them straight that what they’re doing is not okay?”

“I got time,” Luke crossed his arms.  “Count me in.” 

“Well, without students, it looks like I’ll have to join in,” grinned Roy.  Victor paused a few moments and sighed. 

“This is overkill, you know that, right?”

“Nonsense.  Let’s suit up,” grinned Roy.  “Then we can _really_ be intimidating.”

* * *

The assholes see Harper without her suit, but with her gun, and they frown, but don’t move.  Then Luke and Duke drop in on either side of her, and he really feels like this is the start of a cool music video when Cyborg and Arsenal fall in stride. 

Cullen had been sitting next to the reception desk where a shitty security camera was recording.  Smart kid.  Both he and the creeps stared, wide-eyed, at the spectacle. 

“Brought some friends,” she said evenly.  The kid blinked. 

“You guys wanna head home, right?” Duke said.  “I know, it might be difficult to recognize when your presence isn’t wanted, your brains can’t handle that information—”

“Hey,” one of the clearly stupider ones growled. 

“Let’s get out of here,” said another, a greasy little dude.  Thing One didn’t seem to get the picture. 

“We were just going to hang out with our friends.  I’d be happy to take care of the rat problem while we’re here,” said Roy, and wow, direct threats, that was nice.  Cyborg was the clincher, though—he loomed over them, robot eye glowing, muscles flexing. 

“Head home,” he said evenly.  They all ran. 

_Score for the actual superheroes._

Harper sighed, relieved, once they were out of sight.

“You guys want some dinner as a thank you?  I really appreciate it,” she said. 

“Hey, I never say no to free food,” Roy grinned. 

Cullen smacked his hand on the desk. 

“How do you know these guys?” he demanded. 

“Work,” she said, sauntering towards their apartment.  His face twisted before he followed her. 

“Harper,” he said. 

“Yes?” Roy answered, “Oh, wait, sorry—I get last-named all the time, so—”

“Not the point, we’ll get to that.  Can I have a minute?” he asked, pulling her aside already.  He probably didn’t realize that Duke could hear them, or that if Victor focused, he could, too, despite them whispering in another room. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew Batwing and Cyborg?!” he hissed.  “More importantly, why didn’t you tell me that Cyborg is _hotter in person?_ Harper, I’m gonna die,” he groaned, and Duke just barely held in laughter. 

“Oh, right, I forgot about that,” she mused, “Right, should you hide your posters?”

“I will bring you down with me,” he threatened. 

“Then you’ll never get any of their numbers ever,” she replied.  He groaned again, but all that was left of the conversation was a light flush on his cheeks and Harper’s smug grin. 

Duke wasn’t even mad that he wasn’t included in the superhero crushing. The boy wasn’t wrong—you couldn’t see Luke’s face in the suit, but damn if it wasn’t revealing anyway, and Victor was just impressive wherever he went.  Roy was—

Okay, Roy was a bit of a disaster, so clearly Cullen had taste.

“So, Cullen, you’re starting college now, right?  What are you studying?” Luke asked. 

“Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath. “Uh, pre-law, Batwing, uh, sir.”  Harper snorted. 

“The apartment secure?” Duke asked, “Because I want to take my helmet off.” 

“Yeah, all locked up, curtains down. You’re all fine.”

“Thank god,” said Roy, taking off his domino, “I’ve had an itch under this thing for two minutes.”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Duke snarked, taking his helmet off, “You had an itch on your nose, wow.”

Victor laughed, and Luke pulled his cowl down. 

“Oh no,” Cullen muttered, eyes wider and flush going darker. 

“Help me with the ribs, Duke?  They’re in the crock pot and I don’t want to dump them on the floor by accident.”

“Gotcha,” he nodded.  Her brother was staring at all of them. 

“The poor little gay disaster,” she cackled as soon as they were out of earshot.  He raised his eyebrow. 

“And if you were in a room with Black Canary, Donna Troy, and Lena Luthor?”

“. . . fair.  I’ll stop.”

Ah, but where she stopped, the others started.  Luke was unable to not try to be charming (all that time listening to your dad be a cordial businessman for Bruce Wayne could do that), and Victor was being very sweet.  _Oh, you’re a fan of mine? That’s awesome. Most of my fans are proto-engineers—I’m glad it’s not all just scientific interest._ Oh, no, Victor, you precious man, his interest wasn’t scientific _at all_. 

Duke patted Cullen on the shoulder on his way out. 

“Good toughing it out, kid,” he said, “I know what it’s like, being around all of these big names all of a sudden.  Ever see those guys again and Harper isn’t available, give me a call, kay?  She can give you my number.”  His eyes widened substantially and he nodded. 

 . . . huh. 

* * *

 

**Dick**

“I need a job,” Dick grumbled.  Wally laughed. 

“You might not believe it, but people would understand if you didn’t do much for right now.  You’re still adjusting, right?”

“Yes, well, adjusting to nothing isn’t working out great.  Don’t get me wrong, you’re all wonderful, but I feel . . . pretty useless.”  Wally’s eyes softened. 

“You want to come with me to Central for a bit?  I haven’t shown you off to my coworkers in a while, and that’s a travesty.”  Dick laughed. 

“Fine, fine, let me grab my jacket.” 

* * *

Dick shadowed Wally at work—Dick sometimes stared blankly while Wally went through forensic jargon with his coworkers, but he always smiled when he met someone new and was a lot less jittery than he had been at home. 

Once an acrobat, always an acrobat.  He couldn’t sit idly—Wally could relate. 

Their ice cream date afterwards was even going well until portals started opening up in the street, dropping debris and monsters.

“I gotta—”

“Go ahead,” Dick nodded.  “I’ll try to keep civilians out of it.”

“Right!” And Wally sped off, only to be replaced by the Flash. 

Wally incapacitated creature after creatures—they kind of looked like rats and boars fused together. 

It struck him that it reminded him of—

Reminded him of—

Kori.  A kiss out of nowhere, and—nothing.  _Well, not nothing, at least_ , he huffed to himself.  That was a good sign, at least.

And, just as strangely familiar, a flash of green caught his eye.  He stood up.  There was a human-like figure falling from one of the portals, caught in the debris.  He dove towards the person, intercepting their fall and the rock-crushing-death that would follow. 

He stared at the kid for a good minute as he got him out of the worst of the mayhem—because he was carrying an unconscious Robin over his shoulder, and he’d never met this kid before in his life.

He went through his mental checklist of People He Knew, and this kid didn’t match the description of any of the Robins whatsoever.  He was _positive_ this wasn’t someone he already knew. 

Dick lugged the kid to a rooftop so they wouldn’t be visible from street level.  As soon as the fight was over, he called Wally over. 

“Another one?” he asked.  “Where’d he come from?”

“One of the portals,” Dick gestured, huffing.  “This one isn’t Bruce’s fault—at least, our Bruce’s anyway.”

“Okay, yeah.  He’s waking up.”  The kid rolled his shoulders and shook his head. 

“Mmphguh,” he grunted, sitting up, “The—shit, the portals,” his eyes popped open wide. 

“They’ve closed, kid—you came through and got knocked out,” Wally said.  “Robin, I take it?”

“Uh, yeah—Flash?  Uh, which one are you?”

“Wally,” he grinned.  “Dunno how helpful that is.”  The kid turned towards Dick and gasped. 

“Dad?”

“. . . what?” Dick asked.  He didn’t have a son, not that he knew of.  Wally glanced between them. 

“Uh, kid?  This isn’t your universe, remember.”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” he laughed nervously.  “Um, Jake Grayson.  Nice to meet you, sir,” he said to Wally before nodding to Dick with a smile. 

“Oh wow, Dick, he has manners, B definitely had nothing to do with him.”

“Shaddup.  Okay, why don’t we get you over to the Cave, or to our apartment, all right?”

“Uh, that’s fine,” he said.  “I just—well, don’t try to send me back to my universe?  It’s kind of blown up?  I was between dimensions for a bit when those creatures attacked me and—”

“Whoa, whoa, okay,” Dick shook his head.  “Let’s get you in some actually comfy clothes and get you checked out first.  Then we can get explanations if you need to give them.”

* * *

Jake was a distinguished little kid, awkward and quiet.  But Dick definitely saw the resemblance. 

“So, I was your dad?  Who’s your mom?” Dick asked.  Jake curled in around himself a bit before answering. 

“Koriand’r.  But I didn’t really know her.  I grew up with just you.  And, uh, when she did come back from Tameran, it didn’t exactly end well,” he said quietly.  “Dad didn’t agree with her reasons for leaving and didn’t want me to get to know her.”

“I’d hit myself upside the head if it would knock sense into him, but I’ve got very few brain cells to spare lately,” Dick said honestly, because it really should have been up to the kid.  

“You send a message to the bats?” Wally asked.  Dick nodded. 

“Alfred offered to send cookies over when Jason stopped by.  Babs is picking up Kori and Mari before coming back.”

“Kori?  You—she exists in this universe?” Jake asked. 

“Yeah—we’ll have to work out what’s different,” Dick said.  Wally pursed his lips. 

“Jake, did you _plan_ on coming to a universe after that trek, or—”

“Does it matter?  Mine fell apart.  My friends and family are all either dead or in other universes.  It was a no win situation,” he said, curling in on himself. 

“Damn,” Wally said.  Dick frowned. 

“I’m going to be honest with you, Jake—I have amnesia, so I’m not even quite me from _here_.  I’m not the man that raised you, but, if . . . if you have nowhere else to go, I’d like it if you could stay with us.”  Wide-eyed, Jake looked up at him. 

“Seriously?  You’d—wow.”

“I think Mari would love having a little brother,” he continued. 

“Who’s Mari?” he asked. 

“Mine and Kori’s daughter,” Dick said, “She’s a few years older than you, but—”

Jake stared. 

“Oh X’hal, am I a _girl_ in this universe?” he yelped.

“No,” Wally shook his head.  “You already don’t seem much like Mar’i at all.  You could be siblings, though.”

* * *

Explaining the situation to Kori, Babs, and Mari had been fine, after the initial surprise.  Even the other Bats had taken it in stride. 

Jake looked so shocked to be welcomed there.  Dick hated to think ill of the dead, but he wondered if his other self really was all that great of a father if the boy was that surprised. 

“Oh my _gosh_ , this will be so awesome,” Mari chatted away.  “So, how’s your starbolt aim?”

“Starbolt?” he asked.  “I, uh, haven’t managed to do more than make my hands light up, so—”

“I am teaching you _this instant,”_ and she dragged him off to the cave.  Everyone chuckled. 

“She is taking being an older sibling very well,” said Jason, raising his eyebrows. 

“Please, she’s been hoping for this for a while,” Kori snorted. 

“Not wrong.  She practically adopted Milagro, and she’s her age.”

Squealing could be heard in the distance. 

“Mari!  No flying!” Jake complained. “I literally _just_ learned how; don’t you dare—"

“I never said that was a rule!” she cackled. 

“I think they’ll be okay,” Barbara smiled softly.  “I need to go to PT in a few—Dick?  Mind coming with me?”  Dick blinked. 

“Not at all.”

* * *

 

**Tim**

“Shopping for suits is so much easier than shopping for dresses, they say.  They don’t _get it_ ,” Stephanie moaned.  “Not all suits are made equal!  You cannot look like a sleep-deprived CEO at your wedding, Tim.”

“Please stop,” Tim grumbled.  “You’re just mad we chose red for the theme.”  And, like the mature adult she was, she stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Nah, purple is for Batgirl only.  What I’m mad about is that your hero personas are getting a Vegas wedding.  Don’t you have any style at all?”  He snorted. 

“We can’t all be Bruce and Selina, Steph.  And I am not having two ceremonies for no reason. The public can deal; I’ve got more important stuff to do besides.  Bruce has been talking to me about his retirement plans and—”  Stephanie snorted. 

“I love that you call it that.  You think he’ll ever _not_ be, well, B?”

“In practice, yeah, he’ll have to slow down—he’s got a few years left, but literally everyone has basically told him that he can’t run himself into the ground.”  She swiped through pictures on her phone of ideas she’d saved, humming. 

“You don’t have to take over, you know,” she said.  Tim frowned. 

“I wasn’t planning on it?  I know I’m not quite a groomzilla, but—"

“No, I meant the cowl,” she said.  Tim took a few seconds to absorb that. 

“If I have to, I will.  But I don’t think I have to.  I don’t—you know how you think you were just a stand-in until I came back?”  She blinked. 

“Emotional maturity, wow.  Continue.”  He chuckled. 

“You’re not as good at it as you think you are.  Anyway.  I’m just—I _idolized_ Dick and Jason as Robin.  I idolized Bruce.  Fanboy number one.  And I didn’t mean to be Robin—I mean, yeah, I gave Bruce the whole _Batman needs a Robin_ thing and whatever.  I threw myself into it so he’d find a real Robin, Steph.  Jason calls me Replacement—I didn’t _mean_ to.  I don’t want to step into anyone else’s identity, Steph.  Especially Bruce’s; I’m too much like him.”

“Now _that_ I can get on board with.  I don’t think the others realize it.  You’re crazy smart and kind of scary ruthless.  You know that, right?”  Tim grinned. 

“And that’s why no one ever sees me coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this chapter came from exactly, but here we are. I found like two pages of Jake Grayson and immediately went well now I gotta write him. Don't know what Talia's up to yet, but we'll see. I think Jake will be interesting to play with because he's not used to powers being tolerated and accepted, so he'll go around like "what aliens and metas are . . . cool here?" and yeah this will be an interesting development. Yes there are too many Batfam characters and no I do not care.


	10. Second Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake makes some adjustments, Jason deals with a student, Tim gets married, and Damian paints some pictures.

* * *

**Jake**

What the heck.  _What the heck._   He stared at the League members on the screen, flying, blasting—with their own powers.  They—there were definitely ones that weren’t human.  What was this? 

He couldn’t talk to Mar’i—she had powers; she’d be biased either way.  Mom was a no for the same reason.  Dad—he didn’t have memories, so for all he knew he was the _same_ , or very, very different.  Who would be completely objective about it?

“Uh, Damian?” he asked tentatively.  The older teen turned away from his sketchbook. 

“Grayson,” he said, with a smile.  “I really need to get out of that habit, don’t I?  There’s three of you now.”

“Might be a good idea,” Jake said.  “Um.  So there’s a lot of differences in this universe that I didn’t expect.”  Damian shifted on the couch, gesturing for Jake to join him. 

“What year was it when you left?  I just want to establish a baseline,” Damian asked.  Jake gave the year. 

“I’m eleven,” he said.  “It was—a few months before my birthday.”

“When’s your birthday?” Damian asked. 

“March second.”

“Huh, not too far off then.  It looks like our timelines line up at least pretty closely.”

“Yeah, well, not when it comes to events.  And my version of my parents were a bit older . . . and.” 

“And?”

“Dad was _not_ about anyone that wasn’t human.  No metas, no aliens.  Same with everyone, really—it was this whole movement.”  Damian frowned. 

“That sounds . . .” Damian couldn’t seem to come up with a word that he wanted to say. 

“Like what?”

“Not like Grayson.  Kind of fascist, to be honest.”

“He only got his head out of his ass when he realized _I_ had powers.  So.  What’s the deal here?”

“We usually fight _against_ organizations like that.  They’re in the shadows, mostly, or seen as the wrongdoers they are.  Powers, they’re a gift, like any other ability.  Genes make baseline humans better or worse at things—circumstances too.  That’s no different.  Dick would be appalled.”

“Yeah, okay.”  Jake inhaled.  “DoyouthinkTimwouldtrainme?”  Damian blinked. 

“Uh, yes, if you asked at a speed that he could understand you at.  I would, too.  Everyone’s split up Mar’i’s training over the years; I don’t see why not.”  His eyes narrowed.  “But why Drake?”

Jake bit his lip. 

“Uh.”

“That is not an answer.”  Jake glanced off to the side before grumbling petulantly. 

“He’s the Robin I first knew about besides Dad.  Dad was always Nightwing to me.  The whole Batman and Robin thing—it mattered a lot to Tim.  And it matters a lot to me, what Robin stands for, why he’s Batman’s partner.  Batman needs Robin.”  Ah, he’d heard that before.  And the wide eyes reminded him of what Tim said he was like when he first started out—Boy Wonder, indeed.  Always in wonder of the position he was in. 

“I’ll ask Drake when he’s open.”  Definitely after the honeymoon, though. 

* * *

 

**Jason**

This was the fourth time Ava had snuck into the teacher’s lounge.  The other teachers had only noticed her twice, but Jason wasn’t the Red Hood for nothing. 

“Let me talk to her,” he told the dean, who was about ready to suspend her but had yet to have an excuse. 

“She’s been in here without permission before,” frowned Adrien, the physics teacher. 

“Yes, well, I’m wondering _why_ she feels the need to sneak in here.  Nothing’s out of place, after all.  And after the incident with Crowley, do you really think she’s not going to listen to me?”  Jason was the teacher that didn’t give a shit, at first glance, but the moment he caught kids buying drugs in the parking lot he’d gained a reputation for being scary.  _I’m a civilian and I’m still stopping the drug trade,_ he’d thought amusedly, but apparently his glare had held through his amusement, because it didn’t happen again. 

Red Hood also gave the dealer a good beating that night, but no one needed to know why exactly. 

“If anyone can solve the problem, please do,” the principal said.  “I don’t want to take negative action with Gibson, but I will if I have to.  Please, Mr. Todd, by all means.”  He shook his head. 

“I’m not threatening her, if that’s what you think.  I know I got—aggressive with those drug dealers, but that’s a sore spot for me.  I would never mistreat a student.”

“I know you wouldn’t; that’s why I’m asking you, Jason, to please take Ava aside and see if you can help her.  Your class is one of the few she actually doesn’t skip.”  Huh. 

“I’ll do what I can.”

* * *

“Ava, can we chat after class?” he asked, and she tensed for the rest of the period.  Luckily, her class was the last one of the day. 

“I didn’t do anything,” she said firmly. 

“That was the fourth time you were in the teacher’s lounge for some reason, though everyone else thinks it was the second.  What are you doing in there?”  She was turning red. 

“I didn’t do anything,” she repeated.  Jason sighed. 

“So you just wanted to look around?  Four times?  No one has reported anything stolen, and I doubt you’re dumb enough to think you can hack school records from any of our personal computers.”  She shook her head, glaring up at him over her glasses. 

“I. Didn’t.”

“Do anything, right,” he sighed.  “Except take from the food trays Mrs. Heron brings in every day.  I don’t think you’re a bad kid, Ava; I think you’re hungry, and I don’t want to jump to conclusions before trying to help.”  She stared. 

“How did you know?”

“I take the stale stuff to see if I can salvage any of it into a casserole for the shelter in my neighborhood.  I was noting a distinct lack of bagels.  Less mess to get caught, more filling than the veggies.  Now—what’s happening that you feel like you have to take it?  Is there not enough food at home?” She bit her lip. 

“I—usually.  Mom and Dad, they’ve been fighting, so my sister and I get flipped between my dad’s and aunt Melissa’s, since Mom isn’t staying with him anymore.  Mom’s having a hard time finding a job, so we _have_ food, it’s just not very filling.  Max is just a baby; I told Mom I was working in the cafeteria and they let me eat for free for it.  I _do_ have a job, just not here.  And real food isn’t cheap.”

“I know,” Jason nodded.  She scoffed.

“Bruce Wayne is your dad.  You have a _butler_.”  Jason shook his head. 

“Yeah, and before I lived with Bruce, I was on the streets.”

“ . . . right.”

“Don’t believe me?  I stole tires to make money as a kid, Ava.  I _know_ what it’s like when a parent can’t afford to feed you, so you take matters into your own hands.  Fortunately enough, little me was brave and dumb enough to try to steal from the Batmobile.”  Her eyes widened. 

“ _No_.”

“I had three out of four off and ready, but the guy caught me,” he grinned.  “And apparently at the time he was decent friends with Wayne, who was getting empty nest syndrome since Dick moved out.  I know, Ava.”  She sighed. 

“I’m just—if they find out I lied, it’ll be a whole _thing_ , and Max doesn’t need to suddenly have nothing good, right?  She’s a toddler.  She won’t understand why suddenly she can’t eat as much as she wants.” 

“Let’s see if we can get you another job, or a raise at your current one, then,” Jason said.  “Or I can work a deal in the cafeteria so it won’t be a lie.  It seems reasonable enough.” 

* * *

The next week, he was in charge of monitoring the cafeteria.  When he glanced in the kitchen, Ava was in the back, working hard.  He grinned to himself, and didn’t say a word. 

* * *

**Tim**

He grinned again and kissed his husband.  _His husband, oh, wow._   That was never going to stop being amazing. 

“A father-son dance!” Steph called over the din of the reception hall, “Gotta do it!”  And Tim would have loved to, except he was kissing his _husband_.  He got a tap on his shoulder—Bruce raised an eyebrow.  Tim blushed. 

“I know how it feels to have just gotten married,” he said casually, “But mind if I cut in for a few?”  Kon stepped back with a smile. 

Which dropped as soon as Clark put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Not you too,” he groaned.  But it was inevitable.  Superman and Batman dancing with them at their wedding.  _The hell._

Pre-Robin him would have fainted.  And then baby Robin him would have accused him of being some sort of trick. 

Some days he still wondered. 

“Bruce, I swear to everything that has ever mattered to me, this had _better not_ be Dick’s suggestion.”  Bruce shook his head. 

“He wasn’t allowed near the music selection.”

. . .

Tim kissed Kon again. 

“Crazy, right?”

“Yes, _husband_ ,” Kon said.  “Now, what was the plan for the honeymoon?  You’ve been keeping it a secret forever and I’ve gotta know.”

“Well, I know you miss Hawaii . . .”

“You _didn’t_.”

“Hey, as someone on Wayne Enterprises payroll, why shouldn’t I buy a second home, huh?”

“Tim!” Kon laughed and kissed him again. 

* * *

 

**Selina**

She grinned.

Everyone was passed out in the living room, sprawled over couches, chairs, and in Jon, Damian, and Mar’i’s cases, the carpet and each other.  Her cats were cuddling with everyone, with three of them on top of Jason. 

Huh, how was he breathing with that much furry weight on him? 

“Tim and Kon are on the plane?” asked Lois.  Selina nodded. 

“Would you and Clark like to stay overnight?  I know he has Kara patrolling Metropolis for the week.”

“That’s the plan.  Mind coming to the kitchen with me?  Clark’s going to sleep like a log and I could use some company before I join him.”  Selina hummed, nodding. 

“Tea or cocoa?” Selina asked, rummaging through cabinets.  “I had enough alcohol at the reception.”

“Not surprised.  Tea, please.”

They quietly waited for their drinks to brew.  It was times like these—the quiet of everyone else being asleep, that gave her a thrill.  That was the time for cats and bats, after all.  But now she was content to just let the warmth of cocoa settle in her stomach. 

“Birds flying the nest,” Lois murmured.  Selina didn’t even snort. 

“As long as they fly back to visit, I think we’ll be all right.”

* * *

 

**Damian**

Damian confirmed first that the Outlaws official members were, indeed, who he thought they were.  Todd, Koriand’r, Harper, Bizarro, and Artemis.  He knew he had to do it mostly at school or when people would disturb him, so it did take some time to orchestrate. 

Artemis, engulfed in a golden glow, armor molten in the light as she snarls at an enemy looking at the canvas.  Bizarro in a moonlit sky, embers flying around him.  The moonlight matched his pale face, red cape fading into the Halloween-esque clouds. 

Roy Harper, Arsenal.  Armed to the teeth, bow drawn at the viewer, an orange explosion roaring behind him, shattering him into stark shadows and golds.  Koriand’r, all hot-coal red hair and green starbolts lit in her fists and eyes.  She was floating over a Tameranean landscape. 

And Jason. 

Damian had the Red Hood standing in a wide stance, facing forward.  He held two guns crossed in an x over his chest, red bat symbol only noticeable by its wings.  The mask reflected the glow of the flames at his feet.  Smoke and ash clung to his jacket.  In an impression of the flames was a stylized Robin R symbol, only visible if you knew to look for it.

He wasn’t lying in a grave, arms crossed, body limp—he was standing, tense and ready for a fight. 

The paintings were installed in the Hall of Justice, and prints of each of them were placed in other facilities.  Damian took a page out of Tim’s book and made a separate art account for his artwork, but didn’t post it until after the team got to see the paintings.  He was lucky to be there to see the reactions. 

“What the _fuck_ ,” Roy was the first to notice.  Immediately they all rushed over to the paintings—displayed in the room just before the residence wing. 

“Ah, right,” said Dinah, passing by.  “An artist donated them with instructions—anonymity, permission to use the images, and a message of thanks for defending the world.  They just came in yesterday.”

Koriand’r was intrigued, scanning the image back and forth. 

“They got my good side,” she mused. 

“You’re all good sides, Kori,” said Jason.  Artemis was grinning, and Bizarro was laughing.  Jason and Roy were comparing little details all over. 

“Oh my _god,_ ” Jason gasped, coming to a dead stop in the chatter.  “The—look!”  He was pointing at the impression in the flames 

“Robin?” asked Roy. 

When Damian posted the photos of the paintings, the Outlaws official page immediately commented. 

_Thank you.  We love them.  But is there any way I can convince you to do one of Green Arrow in a Superman onsie?  I have photo reference. –Arsenal_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say other than  
> a) comments give me life  
> b) Ava is the name I gave to Max Gibson's older sister (Max is Terry's friend, if you'll recall)  
> c) if I had the time rn I'd be doing the fanart I'm describing Damian doing but tbh life is hell right now so this is going to be the last update in a while since school is winding down.


	11. Next Steps and Acquisitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia schemes, Jason gets a gift, and Dick deals with his kids growing up.

* * *

**Talia**

Three bases, four international labs, and secure contacts in the LexCorp business.  Yes, well, that would do nicely. 

The next step was figuring out components of the Lazarus Pits. She rearranged the system of CADMUS to focus on revitalization instead of cloning—luckily, the biochemists were all too happy to have a new source of intrigue. 

“See, Luthor?  It won’t be long before things are set to rights,” she explained.  “Now stop whimpering.  Alice, prepare the next dosage.”  The assistant nodded, readying a needle. 

The man on the table went limp, breathing shallow.

* * *

 

**Mar’i**

She gestured to the gardens, grinning at her design. 

“And there’s evenly spaced flora per season, depending on when they bloom and how Gotham’s climate affects them,” she presented to her teacher. 

“Excellent, Mar’i—how do you plan on implementing that?”

“The roof of the GCPD,” she said.  “Greenery on rooftops is a sustainability thing, like I explained before the design.  It’s extra insulation, helps keep the air quality up—”

“And leads to more Poison Ivy advantages,” grumbled a kid next to her.  She rolled her eyes. 

“The only way to avoid her powers is to destroy all plant matter, and that’d just make her more vengeful.  She’s less abrasive when she’s actually in a natural environment because she’s less vulnerable. What, are we going to ban winter for Mr. Freeze, too?”

“Enough,” said their teacher.  Mar’i just grinned, point made.

* * *

 

“I have an idea!” she called through the apartment.  “For my superhero identity!”  Wally sat up sharply from the couch. 

“You do?  Wait, let’s get Dick back, and Kori, they’ll want to know—” Barbara nodded.  She shook her head. 

“No, that’s the point— _Nightstar_ ,” she said.  “And I need help designing a new version of my gear.  Lian’s doing a whole Red Riding Hood thing, Milagro’s got something else—all of the team is shifting around, joining other groups and stuff.  I want to start new,” she said. 

“What if I make it a girls’ plus Wally night?” Barbara suggested.  Mar’i squealed. 

“ _Yes!_ ”

* * *

 

Stephanie was debating with Barbara about flashiness versus practicality. 

“I mean, she’s Tameranean, so the bracers in silver with green accents?” pleaded Steph. 

“That’s fine and all, but she should have a stealth suit, too,” Barbara shook her head.  “Silver’s going to stand out.”

“Uh, stealth and starbolts don’t necessarily match up,” Wally piped in, “Speaking from experience.”

“I can be stealthy,” Mar’i pouted.

“I was talking about your mom,” he laughed.  Harper and Cass were in the kitchen baking cookies.  Kate was throwing out occasional ideas. 

“We’ve seen Star’s outfit,” she said.  “How runway do you want to be?  Or would you rather go catsuit like daddio?” Mar’i blushed. 

“Ix-nay on the bodysuit, thanks.”  Stephanie tried a few adjustments to one of Kori’s earlier outfits, darkening the purple and shifting some lines to mimic Nightwing.  She tapped the eraser of her pencil on her chin. 

“Poofy sleeves or nah?” she asked.  Mar’i’s eyes lit up. 

“Like an oversized sweater, but lighter material,” she confirmed.  Baggy things were comfy as heck. 

* * *

 

**Dick**

J’onn had figured out the mental components once his actual brain matter had started to heal.  It was slow going, but it looked like he was going to regain his memories over time.  Everything generally fit together, but details were blurry in most places for now. 

Kori had picked him up from the appointment to find the apartment dark.  He tensed before the lights turned on and people cheered—Barbara and Wally, presenting—

Oh god.  He was definitely going to cry. 

Mar’i and Jake were standing next to each other, arms crossed and grinning.  Mar’i had a new purple suit on—with silver accents and green stones.  Jake had apparently finally figured out starbolts, because a pink glow was coming from his hands. And he was in a new Robin suit. 

“You’re going to make me cry, thanks a lot, wow,” Dick said, sniffling.  “But for the record, who the hell upgraded all this?  Babs?  Really?  The whole Nightwing-Flying-Grayson thing really hits here.  Wow.  Okay.  And I assume this means you have a new identity?” he raised an eyebrow at Mar’i. 

“Nightstar,” she said, and Kori gasped, hand to her mouth. 

“The two of you come here before the waterworks start,” Dick said.  “Because I’m going to be a puddle in a minute.  I’m not joking; come here.” That seemed to shake Jake and Mar’i, since Dick had hardly been quite so touchy-feely without his memories.  Which they did not know he had back.  He leaned back from the sudden group hug. 

“Also I remember things now!  Not well, but they’re there!”

Mar’i blinked a couple of times before grinning smugly. 

“So everything’ back to normal, huh Dad?”

* * *

Of course, it wasn’t all happy. 

“I could do some good with the Lanterns!  They need non-members doing this program, and I’d fit just fine!  I’d be home most of the time anyway—”

“I’m not up to this,” he grumbled.  “It feels like I just got you _back_ —I’m just starting to really recover, and you’re gone.”

“This has nothing to do with that!” she snapped.  “This is an internship I’ve been hoping for since Milagro told me that the plan was in action, and you know I'm not just a regular human - I should be allowed to explore off-planet opportunities.  I’m not going to disappear.  It’s just a security job.”

“You’re too—”

“If you say that I’m too young, I will pull out pictures of you in the tights,” she snapped. 

“Well, you’re not the parent here.”

“And you’re not a kid, despite how childish you’re acting!”

“Oh, I’m _childish_?”

The others, meanwhile, were watching as the two of them had a shouting match. 

“I have been training for this from the beginning!  What did you _think_ was going to do when I grew up?  Stay home and tend the garden?”

“—Dick?  Mar’i is right,” Wally said.  “She’s getting a job.  Most parents would be thrilled to hear that their kid is being responsible.  But you shouldn’t call your dad childish, Mar.”

The fight ran all the way up until her first day on the job, when Dick finally caved and admitted he was scared of her growing up. 

* * *

 

**Jason**

“Excuse me?” Jason’s eyebrows were as high as they could go.  Because Oswald Cobblepot had just bequeathed the Iceberg Lounge and multiple other properties, along with some places that were notorious positions of power in the mob, to him. 

Fuck.

“The Penguin has been a part of Gotham since before the Bats,” explained the attorney.  “He assured me that, while Nygma’s and his assets were well taken care of, many of his properties and subsidiaries default to you.  He also had a letter made out to Red, but instructed me to give it to you, since you would know who it’s for.”

_Fuck_. Old Penguin just had to go out in style, didn’t he—one last dramatic flourish.  Some of those villains seemed like they were too stubborn to die, but here he was, inheriting one of the first lairs to be set up. 

“Surprised it didn’t go to Nygma,” he said casually.  The woman snorted. 

“You think Nygma knows how to deal with amassing power and corruption like that?  No, Ed’s been done with the scene for a long time. Surprised he sent it all to one of Gotham’s princes, though—maybe he figured you’d know this Red well enough to know what to do with all the paperwork.  If Red is Red Hood—” and Jason narrowed his eyes.  This lawyer seemed— _no_ —

“—or Red Robin, then I think he’d have enough common sense to deal with this with you before someone tries to come and shoot you up for Penguin’s assets.”  He blinked.

“You’re kidding, right?” he asked. 

“No.  I think those two are worth checking out—though do they go by different things now?  I never know.  But they were good at this one serial killer case that my friends were affected by, and Red Robin offered for me to join up as a new Batgirl.  I probably got the better deal,” she grinned.  Yeah, it really was her, wasn’t it?  He hadn’t seen her in years. 

“Lydia, right?  How are Snow and Trish?”  She blinked back, before narrowing her eyes at him. 

“ . . . No.  I will not think about this.  Plausible deniability,” she said.  “I don’t know anything.  But they’re good, if you must know.  Dammit, Jason,” she groused.  He laughed. 

“I don’t mind if you know it’s me.  Penguin sent a gift my way to either put a target on my back or as the weirdest thank-you I’ve ever had.  Either way, I’d better read the letter, huh?  Thanks, Lydia.”  She rolled her eyes and left his office, briefcase in hand. 

“Bye, Hood.”

* * *

 

**Talia**

“Tailoring an empire for the future was always going to prove difficult,” she hummed, tapping away at her laptop. 

Children had other things to do.  Bruce could groom Damian however he wanted—it wouldn’t take much to hold this together, once she had it running.  What he didn’t know, he could pawn off to the right investors.  And Lena Luthor wouldn’t mind giving up this portion of the company to Wayne Enterprises, when it came down to it—anything to break her image of being related to Lex.

Her son was going to attend Gotham University soon enough.  That would be enough time for her to finish this project before she handed it down to him.  She crossed her arms, watching the background program run. 

_Lazarus Compound Analysis: 32% complete._

Satisfied, she turned back to Luthor, whose wounds were closing rapidly.  Yes, she’d be able to work with this before her father returned.  Her little prince would do just fine.

* * *

**Selina**

She turned around in the main chair of the cave, frowning.  Damian had just gotten back from patrol in Bludhaven, and his expression was grim. 

“Want to talk about it?” she asked, eyebrows raised.  Damian shook his head. 

“I’m not going to become Robin again.  And now that Dick’s back—two Nightwings was probably enough.”

“You don’t have to be anything, Damian.  Not if you don’t want it.”  She stretched, shaking her head.  The kid had grown up well, becoming his own person.  He often forgot that.

“You don’t have to be Robin, or Nightwing, or Batman. You don’t have to be Damian, if that’s not who you feel you are—though we’ve all come to love Damian a lot,” she said.  Damian heaved a sigh. 

“I want to do right by my family.  Being a vigilante and a student are the two things I know how to do—unless you count being an assassin, and I gave that up.”  She raised her eyebrows. 

“I didn’t grow up expecting to be a vigilante, Damian.  I was a small-time urchin at best.  And a thief for longer—you’ve got time to decide who and what you want to be.  If you want to step back, no one will blame you.”  He shook his head.

“ _I’ll_ blame me.”  She chuckled. 

“What do you like, Damian?” she asked.  “Taking care of animals. Drawing, painting.  Looking after other people.”  She offered for him to sit next to her. 

They chatted for an hour or so, and Damian admitted that while he liked protecting people, he wasn’t sure how to do that.   

“Everyone has their own thing,” she nodded absently. “You’ve been one of the best parts of joining this family, Damian—you helped me a lot by being honest from the beginning.  I want you to know that no matter what you decide to be, we all love you.”

“Mom—” he said, a surprised look even as it left him.  Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.  He didn’t correct himself, though.  _Oh, hell._

“Mom.  Thank you.  I really needed to hear that.”  Fuck it if this kid wasn’t going to make her cry.  She hugged him tightly before pulling back with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm graduating college in 8 hours and this is what I am doing instead of sleeping  
> Also Lydia is from the first installment of this series in case anyone was curious. I don't know what I'm doing with this story but it's happening. Sorry for the short chapter - but comments and kudos give me life to continue!


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